Creep
by TheFanWhoWasntThere
Summary: Edward thinks he is on top of the world when he meets Bella, and is plunged into some serious self-doubt. Is he really just a creep, a douche bag and a pedo? Or can his encounter with this sweet but quietly determined girl change his life?
1. Chapter 1

Creep.

Chapter 1. The time I discover I am a creep.

July 2006

It's a beautiful day. Too beautiful, really. I stretch and groan under the pounding heat of the Arizona sun. Then I lurch to my feet and drag my reclining chair into the shade of a bright yellow umbrella, right up against the azalea bushes, where it feels slightly cooler. I'm not used to the heat, and in spite of having covered my pale skin with sun screen, and having imbibed a few beers too many, I don't think I should stay outdoors much longer.

I feel good though, with the beer humming through my body, the heat making me lazy and relaxed, and just knowing that I have another week of vacation ahead of me before I have to go back to Chicago and my summer job and daddy's firm. I look around the pool area for Jazz, and I find him sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs in the bright blue water, laughing with some girls. Trust Jazz to find the prettiest girls at the pool party.

This is Jasper's home town, and he has invited me over for a week, to experience Phoenix and the South-west for the first time. We have spent some time driving around, looking at the national parks, tramping through the stifling heat of the desert, rock climbing, and boating on the river, and now we're meeting up with friends of his at this afternoon pool party in Scottsdale that will turn into a barbecue and maybe some dancing and debauchery later.

There are quite a number of people here, of mixed ages and in mixed states of undress. Most seem to be our age, in their early twenties, college kids like us, home for the summer and eager to catch up and swap stories of their conquests and achievements with one another. Some are younger, high school kids maybe, and then some moms and dads, neighbours in their forties, hanging out in the shade on the lawn under the big trees.

There is beer in coolers, and a bar in the house, and judging by the level of laughter and how the noise keeps rising, I'm betting I'm not the only one who has had a few too many. But I'm good, enjoying my buzz, relaxing and letting my eyes idly wander over the expanse of exposed, sunburned flesh spread out before me.

Tanya, a pretty redhead who seemed really into me earlier when we met, took off to go home and get some stuff for the barbecue, but promised me she would see me later. I vaguely contemplate the chances of me getting laid tonight. It's been quite a while, and I liked the way Tanya smirked at me, her full lips and almond-shaped eyes clearly suggestive of the fact that she liked what she saw when she looked me over.

I stretch again, feeling a bit stiff in more ways than one, and adjust myself in my damp swimming trunks, pulling on the towel at my feet to partly cover myself up. That is when I first notice the girl. She is over in the pool, together with a bunch of other girls, giggling at something Jasper just said.

There are several blondes, but this one has dark hair, which is wet and spills across her shoulders when she pulls it back from her face. She has dark eyes, and the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, positively angelic, as she beams in Jasper's direction, which makes me inexplicably jealous. She turns around and swims over to the shallow side and I watch her intently as she walks up the steps with a slight wobble, as if she has a hard time keeping her balance.

She is fairly tall and slim, but with some nice curves in all the right places, and I particularly appreciate the way her dark blue bikini bottoms hug her ass, which they only barely manage to cover. They are of the tie with a bow on the hip variety, which always has my fingers itching to untie the bow just to see the flimsy thing drop to the ground.

I watch as she walks over to the trampoline, and giggling and frowning at the same time, she manages to climb the ladder and balance out. Her skin is strangely pale for a native of Arizona, and I wonder if she is a summer guest like myself. I admire the graceful sweep of her arms above her head as she prepares to dive into the pool, and how her pert, small breasts are outlined by her movement.

Now I am uncomfortably hard, and angling my knees under cover of my towel, I furtively stroke myself, after taking a swift look around to make sure no one's nearby and no one is looking in my direction. It's as if I am in a little bubble of my own over here in the shade by the flowering plants, everyone else is too caught up in themselves, conversation, or a drunken stupor to pay me any mind.

My mind is feeling foggy, and I don't know if it's the beer, the heat, or plain lust, but my eyes are fixed on every movement the dark beauty makes, and almost involuntarily I let my hand slip inside my swim trunks, gripping my hard length, making a few tentative sweeps, shuddering at the effect it has on me.

With a warning shout she dives into the water and almost topples before she breaks the surface, to the surprised shouts and laughter of her friends in the pool. When she re-surfaces her face is red, and for a minute I'm distracted by the thought that she may have hurt herself, until I realize that she is embarrassed because her bikini top has come undone, and she is frantically trying to adjust it under the water.

This has me immediately slipping into a fantasy where we are alone in the pool, and where I am relieving her of her bikini before slipping into her heat, all the while surrounded by the cool water. I feel my thumb making circles over the head of my cock, spreading the pre-cum to lubricate my hand and I have a hard time stifling a moan as I discreetly speed up my movements, imagining what it would feel like to have her riding my cock, half in, half out of the water, watching those perfect, small tits bounce before my eyes as her head lolled back in ecstasy and…oh fuck! I come undone with a sharp pleasure that is bordering on pain, piercing my loins and shooting up my spine and into my legs in a hot wave, and I can't help lolling back and letting my eyes roll up into my head behind my sunglasses.

It takes me a few minutes to compose myself, and discreetly fish a paper napkin from the drinks table beside me to take care of some of the mess in my trunks. I keep watching my dark-haired beauty interacting with her friends, looking a mixture of shy and bold as she alternates between hanging back and biting her lip, and moving forward and interjecting some comments into the bantering conversation they have going on with Jazz.

She is more than pretty, she is beautiful and sexy, and I curse the fact that I only laid eyes on her now. Will there be time enough to get acquainted tonight? Time enough to make an impression before I have to leave on Sunday? I decide to take a quick bathroom break before making my first move and have Jasper introduce us, before she is too smitten by his drawling conversation and tales of his rock band.

As I move into the comparative darkness of the house I pass a few people with the quick smiles you bestow on those you have just met and already forgotten the names of, before ducking into a white-tiled haven, where I take the time to freshen up and look myself over. A slight pink tinges my skin, but I still think I look good, tall, a bit lanky, but with nice muscle tone and broad shoulders.

I smirk at my image and by reflex draw my hands through my damp hair, which persists in staying on end as ususal, the red-bronze tinged a dark brown by the water, and my green eyes intense in my newly sunburned face. Yeah, I usually don't have too much trouble catching the attention of the ladies, this shouldn't be too hard, unless she is really into football players, because then I don't have a chance.

As I exit the bathroom and cross the living room I am held up by a woman in her thirties, dressed in a long flowery sundress, with slightly frazzled honeybrown hair and bright blue eyes set off by happy wrinkles. "You're Edward, right? Jasper's friend from college? Nice to meet you, I'm Renée, a friend of the family. We live in the neighbourhood, and we just had to stop by to say hello to Jasper. They throw the most marvelous parties – don't you just love what the Whitlock's have done with the property? You would never guess this was scorching Arizona to look at the garden, would you?"

She is rambling on, and I am smiling politely, and trying not to look over at the pool. But she is leading me out now, by the elbow, asking me if I have met everyone. We stop briefly to chat at a lady and her husband who are also friends of the family, and then Renée introduces me to her husband, Phil, a pleasant younger guy with a deep tan, dressed in a shirt and khakis and with a baseball cap drawn down over short cropped blonde hair who turns out to be a minor league baseball player, and we talk baseball season for a couple of minutes while I am itching to move over to the girls by the pool.

As if she could read my mind, Renée starts pulling me over to the pool area and lands us right where I want to be: in front of the girls giggling in and around the pool. The dark-haired beauty is splashing her hands on the surface of the blue water, smiling at something Jasper just said, and a short girl with spiky dark hair is jumping up and down, squealing and clapping her hands in exaggerated appreciation of his joke. I huff silently. Damned Jasper, always the ladies' man.

"Hello Jasper! I found your friend Edward whom we've all heard so much about. Edward, have you met all the young people?" Renée is exuberant and has a friendly hand on my shoulder, gesticulating towards the gang with her free hand.

Everyone's attention is now on me, and I smile, hooking my gaze on the pretty girl I really want to get to know. Her eyes meet mine, and I see that delicious blush creeping all over her face and fanning out over her neck and the top of her breasts. Lovely, chocolate brown eyes, eyes to drown in. Oh, baby, I could do a thing or two to make you blush like that…

"This is Irina and Kate", Renée continues, pointing to the two blonde girls sitting beside Jasper on the edge of the pool. They are both good looking girls, Irina with her hair in tiny braids all over her head, high cheekbones, wearing a striped black and white tankini and boy shorts that show off her cleavage and her long legs, while Kate is leaner, with short hair and a beautiful smile, wearing a light blue one-piece with some interesting holes in strategic places.

"I'm sure you've heard about Alice", and now the short girl bounces up and down, giving me a small wave and a dazzling smile, and I remember that Jasper has talked about her – they have some kind of "it's complicated" relationship going on since some time back – "and that's my daughter, Bella."

I can't help smirking at the fact that the most beautiful girl here today is called "beautiful", and I turn to Renée hoping to get in her good graces, since this can't hurt my chances with her daughter.

"Really, Renée, I have a hard time believing that someone as young as you has a grown-up daughter, but I can see where she gets her good looks." Renée blushes briefly, and my smile grows wider when I see this small family resemblance. Renée is pretty, but she is nothing like Bella, and frankly I wonder just how young a mother she was, trying to do the math in my head, when Renée breaks my thoughts.

"Well, I've been telling Bella that although I love her dearly, I really wouldn't recommend anyone getting married and having kids as young as I and Charlie, Bella's dad, did. But I have no worries so far, Bella isn't even dating yet, and she is a very serious young lady, much more level headed than her scatterbrained mother, right darling?"

I knit my brow, turning my attention back to Bella.

"I find it hard to believe that a girl as pretty as you, Bella, isn't dating yet. What's wrong with all the boys in Phoenix, Jasper?"

Jasper guffaws and Alice giggles, while Bella turns a crimson red, visibly squirming and unsuccessfully trying to hide by sinking down deeper into the water.

She speaks for the first time, and her voice is low and melodious, deeper than I expected.

"My mom says I can't go on a date until I'm fifteen, but anyway, I don't really think it's going to happen anytime soon. All the boys in school are pretty immature: I'm not interested in them and they're not interested in me. So quit worrying, mom, alright?"

With an exasperated look at her mother she pushes off and swims with a firm backstroke towards the other end of the pool, showing off her long slender legs.

I am dumbfounded, paralyzed. This girl, this beautiful, sexy girl, is…a child! Fourteen fucking years old! Suddenly I feel nauseous and dizzy, and the sun feels as if it's physically beating down on my head. I'm breaking out in a cold sweat all over. I'm a total creep, a fucking pedo!

Through the haze of my rioting body and mind I suddenly see Jasper furrowing his brow, peering up at me in the sun's glare.

"Hey, Edward, are you alright? You look kind of green?" The girls are making concerned noises, Renée is gripping my upper arm firmly and she seems to think I look as if I'm about to keel over. Maybe I am.

"It's…it's the sun", I manage to stutter out. "I think I need to get out of the sun and drink some water..excuse me, will you?"

I turn about abruptly and hurry towards the house, impatient to be out of sight, somewhere I can quietly puke my guts out.

I head up to my guest room and slam the door shut behind me, sliding down to the floor when my legs give out under me. I feel as if I am covered in slime. I feel humiliated. Wanking off to fantasies of impaling an underage girl in a pool! It's disgusting. I have to get out of here. I can't face those people again, can't face _her_, knowing what I know about myself, while they are completely oblivious. Suddenly, a surge of determination gets me on my feet, thrashing through my clothes for some clean khakis and a t-shirt. Keys, phone, wallet, shoes and I am ready to go.

I hesitate at the top of the stairs for a minute, staking out the hall, listening for voices and movement. Everyone seems to be outside in the sun right now, and I creep downstairs, quietly opening the front door, crossing the porch and the big lawn at the speed of light, hit again by the hot wall of air that is a summer afternoon in Phoenix. As I am heading down the street, planning to pull out my phone and call a cab as soon as I am out of range of the house, I hear the sound of a car door closing, and ahead of me a familiar shape materializes on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Edward! Where are you going? I thought you were staying for the barbecue? I have all kinds of goodies in the trunk of my car you know?"

It's Tanya, tall, tanned and spectacular in an orange sundress that brings out reddish sparkles in her long, silky hair. She smirks suggestively at me, and I draw a deep breath, feeling as if suddenly the world is turning around on its axis again. This is a beautiful, mature woman, making eyes at me, and I am attracted to her. This is..normal. This, I can do. I smile my best, lopsided smile at her and raise my eyebrows.

"I just felt I needed to get out of the house for a while – it's kind of..crowded. How about if we go off somewhere, just you and me, and have a barbecue all on our own? How does that sound?"

Tanya hesitates only for the briefest of moments, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, the afternoon and evening planned out in front of us. Oh, yes, she wants it too, I can tell. Then she smiles her full-on hundred watt smile at me, teeth flashing in an almost predatory way, and gestures towards the car.

"Actually, that sounds perfect. Get in the car, Edward, I know just the place we can go to. And we can stop to pick up some drinks and stuff on the way."

I sigh inwardly as I slide into the passenger seat of her sleek single girl-car. Yes, this is something I know I can do. I am going to get so drunk, and fuck this afternoon right out of my system with this beautiful girl who wants me in an all-adult way. I will never think of this day again. Ever.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. The time I discover I am a douche bag.

July 2007

I groan and set the picnic basket down in the shade, stretching my back and kneading my stiff hands together. Jasper is laughing at me from across the lawn where he and some other guys are carrying and setting up the picnic tables and chairs. Yeah, right, like this basket isn't heavy!

Jasper's mom sure knows how to cook, and she has loaded all kinds of stuff in the trunk, while Jasper's dad made sure that the ice box was packed full with beer and not only soft drinks. I like Jasper's dad: he's easy going beneath a tough exterior, and he is really proud of his son.

I sigh and flop down on the grass, looking out toward the water. In a couple of days I am going back to Chicago, and although I have the perfect job experience lined up and waiting for me I dread the fact that I know I will be seeing more of my parents. They still think I am wasting my time on something that will never realize my full potential.

My dad is working in medical engineering and my mother is a surgeon. For the longest time they kept hoping they could get me to chose pre-med, but I know I couldn't handle life as a doctor, working with people all the time, making life-and-death decisions. I prefer juggling problems of space and texture, functionality and aesthetics in my mind. One day I am going to be the new Frank Lloyd Wright. I pull my cap down over my eyes, with a wry smile. But that day is not today…

It's another beautiful day, and I have learned my lesson and am keeping out of the sun as much as possible. Jasper and his friends had promised to help the parents today, with this 4th of July picnic at the marina. They are selling tickets, there are booths and contests and a big-ass firework display on the water after dark. I have agreed to help man one of the booths, and as a reward I will then get the night off and have a chance to eat all I want, hang around the docks, have a couple of beers and meet some nice girls before we watch the fireworks and maybe make a bonfire with the rest of the young people.

Everyone gathers round the baskets as we tuck into the chicken wings and sandwiches for a quick lunch, and I get to shake hands and meet everyone before the whole party is splitting up and we are divided up to our different tasks.

I am stuck with this booth where a big tank of water is connected to a lever, and you have three tries to strike the lever with a ball and tip a person into the water. I made sure I wasn't the one getting tipped in, but Jasper's mom assured me there was a group of volunteering girls who had brought their swimsuits and would take turns getting dunked during the afternoon. I almost suggested that a wet t-shirt would probably draw a bigger crowd, but decided against it. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of Mrs Whitlock, and I'm not sure she could take a joke.

I recognize the first girl getting ready to climb on the seat: it's Alice. She has become a familiar sight since she started college in New York and quickly became Jasper's almost-resident girlfriend. The term almost-resident is denoting the fact that I am drawing a line at her blatantly moving in with us. After all, we share a two-room flat, and I don't relish having a third party crowding the bathroom shelves and the tiny fridge with girl paraphernalia.

As it is, Alice is sleeping over three nights a week, and I find her slinky t-shirts and underwear in our laundry bags ever so often. I make a point of dumping those on Jasper's bed whenever I find them. Alice is his responsibility, not mine.

Aside from this, I think Alice is nice, and often fun to have around, bouncing with energy and always up to something. She makes some mean cupcakes too, which I am not averse to trying. Now she is beaming at me, her spiky black hair crackling with her excitement at the day ahead of us.

"Hey, Edward! Are you joining in the fun and games? Don't mind if I splash you a little, right? After all, this booth has to cater to all tastes, don't you think? How about losing that t-shirt and showing some skin?" She giggles and sends a small spray of water my way with her fingers.

I duck and smirk right back at her.

"Alice, I'll have you know that in this scenario, you are the one responsible for drawing the customers, not me. I am only the foil to your alluring presence, heaving in the cash. Although, come to think of it, there are more reasons than one to dunk you in the water: after all it could be just as rewarding to shut you up for being annoying as watching you get your swimsuit wet."

She scowls and shrieks "Eeedward! How dare you!"

And now we already have a small trickle of customers checking us out, and a couple of teenage guys are walking up, ready to try their skills with the ball. It doesn't take more than five minutes before Alice is going down with a shrill squeal, releasing a peal of laughter and guffaws from the people in front of the booth. She is a good sport, though, and after briefly toweling her hair, she is soon up on the bench again, gently taunting the next guy, who goes red around the ears as he misses and misses again.

An hour later, Alice starts to climb down and announces that she is on a break, and when I turn around, my heart stops. In front of me is..Bella. She is as beautiful as I remember her, maybe more so, as I have tried really hard to forget about her and that mortifying day at the pool party. She is barely tall enough to reach my chin, slender and adorable in a white t-shirt and cut-off jeans shorts, with her long brown hair fanning out over her shoulders, and she is blushing, looking up at me through dark lashes.

I notice all kinds of things, as if time had stopped and everything is magnified a thousand times. She is pale under the faint gold of a light summer tan, and there is a band of freckles across her nose and the top of her cheeks, barely visible until you are this close to her.

Her eyes are brown, with flecks of gold in them, deep, not flat brown, and she is biting her rosy bottom lip in a gesture that is at the same time insecure and sexy as hell. And she smells incredible, warm girl, sun, and flowers, which makes me want to put my arm around her, draw her close to me and bury my nose in her soft hair. I mentally shake myself and take a step back, to put some space between us and remind myself not to act on my impulses.

"Hello, Bella, isn't it?"

I hold out my hand, to be polite, to keep her at arm's length, and – who am I kidding – because I really need to feel her skin on mine.

"I saw you last summer, but I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself. I am Edward Cullen. And you are, Bella, right?"

As our hands touch I think many things at once. That her blush is delicious when it deepens and moves like a shadow down her throat, that her hand feels small and delicate in mine, and that there is a tingle in my hand going all the way up my arm towards my chest when I clutch it.

She smiles, a tentative but genuine smile, and there is her voice again, soft but unexpectedly deep for someone so young.

"I'm Bella Swan. Pleased to meet you Edward. I've heard so much about you."

Now it's my turn to feel flustered, as I watch her whip off her t-shirt and shorts to reveal a sensible black one-piece beneath it, and gingerly climb up and take her position on top of the tank. I turn around as I feel a small elbow making contact with my ribcage. Alice. She smirks up at me, dried off and dressed in a blue sundress and flip flops, ready to take off.

"Bella is my main girl: we go way back, Edward. Waay back. Everything I know, Bella knows, so watch your step, big boy!" And she skips off with a giggle.

Great, so now I am left wondering exactly what Bella has heard about me. Does she know about my drunk times, my hook-ups, my disgusting personal habits..? I decide that I will need to corner Alice sometime soon and find out more of what she has been saying about me.

Not that I have anything to be downright ashamed of, it's just that you don't want anyone to know the stuff that your family and roommates know about you right when you first meet, if you know what I'm saying?

As the afternoon hour wears on I discreetly watch Bella while she is getting dunked in the water, whipping her wet hair out of her eyes, and gamely climbing up again. She is quiet, not a tease and a flirt like Alice, and some of the shyer guys almost seem to miss on purpose, to avoid dumping her in the tank, but she is pretty enough that lots of people halt their step as they pass to get another good look at the sleek girl with the long legs, perched high above their heads.

I glare daggers at the drunks who hoot appreciatively and make rude gestures, and it's enough to make them hesitate and back off. I am feeling strangely protective of this young girl, exposing herself like this to strangers for a good cause.

When Alice finally comes back, she has Jasper in tow, and I am relieved to get a half hour off to get a drink and a bathroom break. As Bella climbs down, I hold up her towel for her to drape it over her shoulders and I briefly rub the outside of her arms, keeping well away from her body, and am awarded with a shy smile over her shoulder.

"So, Bella, would you like to come get a soda with me? Or do you have to be somewhere?"

She bites her lip again, looking down, then up at me with those deep, brown eyes, and I feel a melting feeling in my stomach, as if I was hungry, when I know I am really not.

"Yeah, sure, I would like that. Just, let me get changed, okay?" And she slips into a pair of flip flops and picks up her bag and her clothes, still wrapped in the towel, with her hair dripping down her back.

I follow her and stand watch outside the ladies room, after taking a brief detour to relieve myself and wash my hands, with palms that feel sweaty. I am..nervous. And I don't really know why I am doing this. Bella is obviously still much too young to capture my attention.

But there's nothing wrong with buying a teenage girl a soda, right? She is Alice's friend and a nice girl, helping out. I can be civil to her at least, make her feel that she is appreciated? Teenage girls need that kind of attention, don't they? And why am I asking myself all these questions – I huff, frustrated at myself.

Then Bella is out the door, her hair still damp, but tamed, and her white t-shirt clinging to her torso, a little damp, barely revealing the outlines of a white bra beneath it…and I am sporting a semi. Great. Way to go, Cullen. I clear my throat and start walking in the direction of the stands serving food, relieved that my shorts are big and will probably cover my little slip up.

There is an awkward silence, that I break by asking Bella what she wants, and I get us a couple of Cokes before we look for somewhere to sit down. We finally find a spot in the shade at the back of one of the stands, where the ground is not too dusty, and we lean our backs against the stand and enjoy our cool drinks.

She looks up at me from the side, and suddenly says:

"So, you are studying to be an architect, Alice says. What's that like?"

And suddenly I find myself talking freely about what I love about architecture, and learning the craft, getting the technique and the physics and the math behind the ideas, and how we perceive space, and why certain proportions evoke certain emotions in people. After a while I trail off, watching Bella watch me, her face rapt, a small frown between her eyebrows that makes her look intense, and I forget what I was saying.

"Sorry if I bore you, I tend to get carried away when I talk about this stuff, you shouldn't encourage me."

I laugh, embarrassed, and look down into my lap. Then I feel her small, cool hand on my warm forearm, and I watch fascinated as I feel all the golden hairs on my arm tingle alive under her touch.

"I'm not bored, Edward. It's nice to hear someone being so…passionate about what they do. I really like that. I hope I will feel that way when I go to college and choose my major."

I look at her and see nothing but sincerity in her face, and my heart warms. She really seems more mature than her years. I wonder why that is.

"So tell me something about yourself. How do you know Alice, for instance? She must be, what, four years your senior?"

Bella smiles, and moves her hand from my arm, and I immediately feel bereft.

"Alice used to be my babysitter, from when she was like ten and I was six. She used to get me into _so_ much trouble, you wouldn't believe it!" She rolls her eyes and leans her head back against the wall, smiling at the sky.

"Alice is practically my roommate you know, since she and Jasper are glued at the hip, so I have no trouble believing Alice was a lot of trouble from the very beginning", I smirk. "Tell me, what did she get up to?"

"Oh, in the beginning it was just, physical stuff". Bella hesitates and bites her lip again in that very distracting way she has.

"I am..kind of clumsy, and Alice is really very agile, so she used to play with me on the swings, and balancing on stuff and inevitably I would end up with scraped knees and elbows, and she would be perfectly fine." She huffs. "So unfair! But at least Alice got a bawling-out or two from her mum for being a bad babysitter."

She frowns and twirls the empty Coke bottle between her hands. –

"Then when we were a bit older it was everything from making crank calls to random people to setting up practical jokes for the family and neighbors. You know, like, a plastic bowl full of flour set on the shelf so that when you open the cupboard you are snowed over with a cloud of flour? Or smearing car door handles with peanut butter? Or inserting the drawers upside down so that all your socks fall out when you open them?"

I laugh at the mental image of a kitchen filled with a snowstorm of flour. Yes, I see how annoying Alice could be as a young girl.

"She did that? Hm, doesn't seem as if Alice has been that good a role model for you, Bella? Maybe it's just lucky you turned out as normal as you did?"

Now Bella turns red again, and doesn't meet my gaze.

"I don't know about "Normal", she murmurs. "I have never felt very normal, I guess."

She glances up at me again with a tiny smile.

"Maybe it's because I had to grow up kind of fast, with a mother who is more of a teenager than I am." She shakes her head ruefully.

"We moved around a lot when I was younger, and I got pretty good at the practical stuff, like cooking and keeping track of parent meetings in school, and packing lunch for myself, since mom was almost always busy with a new job and a new set of hobbies."

Suddenly she looks serious and her eyes darken.

"She is a good mom, though. I am not griping, just saying that we are…different. I don't know if that makes us normal or not, do you?"

I make a face. "Bella, I don't know what normal means either. The way I remember high school, everyone was just too concerned all the time about fitting in and being like everyone else, and that is just bound to fail, since everyone is different. I wouldn't worry about normal, if I were you. And believe me, I know what it is like to be on another page from your parents."

I sigh and run a hand through my messy hair, sweaty from a long day in the heat.

"My parents are pretty great, anyone could tell you that, but they don't really approve of my career choices. In their books, architecture is just a pipe dream, and I'll end up in an office doing clerical work and will never get ahead in life or use my _real _talents."

I scowl at the Coke bottle and set it down as I stand up to brush off my shorts.

"I guess I have to get back to the stand now. It was nice talking to you Bella. Will I see you later?" I stretch out a hand to help her up.

As she takes my hand, I feel that tingling jolt of electricity again, and I stare fascinated at her as she stands up, her hair sweeping out, tickling my hand and arm, her invisible freckles visible again at close range. She has no makeup, no pretenses, she is beautiful, and I don't think she even knows it. There doesn't seem to be a vain bone in her lovely body.

She looks down at the ground, then up at me, and there it is again, the wonderful smile, that begins in her eyes, and works itself into the corners of her mouth, making her face glow like a magic lantern.

"I'll be around, doing this and that. I'll be with Alice and Jasper at the cook-out if you want to come looking for us later. Thanks for the Coke."

And she snatches up her bag from the ground and is gone, almost running on those long, colt-like legs.

When I come back to relieve Jasper, it's Alice up on the seat, shouting and making jokes and obviously having a grand old time although she is dripping wet. Jasper laughs as I take over from him, shaking his head.

"I'm beginning to think I have a mermaid for a girlfriend. Watch out: if she starts growing fins, I am _so _not taking her home with me tonight."

"And remember, Edward", he suddenly scowls, emphasizing each word with an index finger knocking uncomfortably on my breast bone, "No One Gets My Girlfriend Wet Except Me!"

Alice's indignant squeal "Jaaasper!" is almost drowned out by my "Eeewwww, Jasper!" as he ducks quickly out of the booth, laughing so hard he is almost doubling over.

The rest of the afternoon is pretty uneventful. Alice is relieved by a blond girl with a white swimming suit and great tits but no spirit, who looks almost as bored when she is being dunked as when she is not. She does signal some interest in hooking up with me later by trying to get me to give her my phone number as she leaves, but by that time I am deadly bored with her company too, and play stupid, pretending I don't have my phone with me.

I lock up and deliver the cash to Mrs Whitlock at the offices of the marina, and she pats me on the back and tells me to go looking for some grub down at the cook-out.

It's twilight, and people are getting louder as darkness falls and music plays at the outside stage by the docks where everyone is milling around, enjoying hot dogs, hamburgers and cheap beer.

I sit down on a patch of grass next to a large family and quietly eat my hamburger, keeping a look-out for people I know. Who am I kidding – it's Bella I'm hoping to see, but it's not easy finding one slim girl in a crowd of hundreds.

Everyone is drifting down towards the water, since the fireworks are about to start, and I follow the crowd, looking around all the time for Jasper's blond head, or listening for Alice's enthusiastic squealing.

It's not until I am standing there, squished between groups of people, craning my neck to see the water and the horizon, that I suddenly feel a familiar smell, and feel someone snuggling up in front of me. It's Bella, smiling up at me, the warm smell of flowers and girl enveloping me with a feeling of well-being as she presses against me in the crowd.

"Hi there, stranger. We have been looking for you everywhere. Can I climb on your shoulders, and see if I can see Jasper and Alice? They should be closer to the water."

I bend down, she scrambles onto my back, and I straighten up, almost losing my balance before I get a good grip on her thighs, now wrapped around my neck. She weighs almost nothing, and yet her long legs feel solid, warm and soft under my fingers. Her flip flops are dangling dangerously, and I pry them off and stick them in the waistband of my shorts to avoid losing them in the crowd.

I can feel her straining to see over the people, and suddenly she is waving and yelling

"Alice! Jasper! Over here! I found Edward! We're over here! It's okay", she says to me, breathless. "They have seen me now, you can let me down if you want."

Reluctantly, I let her slip down my back and land on the ground again in front of me. Wordlessly, I hand her the shoes, and hold on to her hand while she leans down to put them on. I then gently start backing up the hill behind us, her hand still in mine, weaving our way between people, to get a bit higher up where she can get a better look at the water and the sky.

Suddenly, there is light and sound, and the fireworks have started. Bella gives a small gasp and leans back into me, looking up at the sky above us.

I stand there, feeling her body pressed up against me, and without thinking, I fold my arms around her front and let my chin rest on top of her soft hair, enjoying the smell of her and the sounds of awe and delighted surprise she makes as the sky explodes with stars, trees of light, falling constellations and orgies in red, white and blue.

Her fingers weave into mine as our hands interlock, and it is as if we have known each other forever, we are so comfortable standing here together in the dark under the artificial stars.

I hum into her ear: "Aren't you breaking your curfew now, little girl?" and I smile at the scowling face she directs to me over her shoulder.

"Mom and Phil are at this party, and I am having a sleepover at Alices' place tonight."

"I guess your mom really trusts Alice, then", I quip, a little provoked at the thought of a mother leaving her teenage daughter unattended at an outdoor celebration like this.

I can feel Bella shrug in my arms.

"Mom really trusts me, I guess. She knows I would never do anything stupid, Alice or no Alice."

"So you're a good girl, Bella?" I tease her, and immediately regret my flippancy when I feel her posture stiffen. I almost can't hear her response, over the noise of the explosions and the crowd, it's so low.

"I guess I _am_ a good girl, if that means being worthy of my mother's trust in me. Or maybe you're just asking if I'm boring?"

I tighten my arms around her and whisper fiercely into her ear.

"You could never be boring, Bella Swan. You are smart, and beautiful and sincere, and that makes you one of the best girls I have known. Never let anyone tell you different."

I feel her relax infinitesimally at my words, and tighten her grip on my hands.

"Thank you", she breathes into the darkness, and for a minute I bury my nose in her hair and inhale the amazing, sweet smell that is only Bella's.

Suddenly, someone is yanking hard on my arm, and I half-spin around to find someone I know almost nose to nose with me in the throng of people. Tanya. A very beautiful, very pissed-off looking Tanya.

"So, Edward Cullen is back to grace Phoenix with his presence", she sneers. "And babysitting, I see?"

She glances at Bella as if she is someone completely beneath her notice.

"How noble of you, Edward, to look after the orphans of Phoenix on a night like this. Unless you're slumming it with drunk high-school skanks now that you've run through all the decent women?"

She spits out the last part, and I instinctively push Bella behind me, since I suddenly get the feeling that Tanya might be out for blood.

I am relieved to see Jasper and Alice pushing through the crowd to join us, Alice immediately putting a protective arm around Bella and pulling her a couple of steps away from where I stand toe to toe with Tanya. Jasper puts a conciliatory hand on Tanya's shoulder, only to have it shaken off violently as she turns on him.

"Fuck off, Whitlock, no one asked you to interfere. Keep your dirty little hands to yourself. Don't you think Edward is man enough to handle his own battles? Or do you two always share? What do you say, Alice? Are you averse to sharing yourself with Whitlock and Cullen?" She smirks evilly at Alice, whose face is about to turn dark red.

I raise my hands in the air in the universal "white flag" gesture, before Alice can really blow a fuse and jump on Tanya's back like a furious spider monkey to pull out her hair.

"Okay, Tanya, how about we take this somewhere more private, just you and me? Let's get out of here, please?"

I gently shove her in the direction of the parking lot, and she turns around, still fuming, to stomp off through the people, who wave to the side like seaweed, sensing that it's a wise move to leave her some room to pass.

I direct a look of regret back at Jasper, Alice and Bella, mouthing "See you later", before I follow Tanya, eager to get this out of the hair of my friends.

When we get to the parking lot, it's relatively calm, a few people packing up and heading home, while others sit around on the hood of their cars, drinking and talking. Tanya whirls around and slaps my chest with her open hand, which makes me wince, and take hold of her hand before she gets the idea to slap me somewhere else.

"Take it easy Tanya, there's no need to get violent. You've got my undivided attention now: what is it that you want to say to me?"

She scowls at me, and yanks her hand out of my grip, folding her arms across her chest in a protective and defiant gesture. She is almost as tall as I am in her heels, wearing jeans and a low-cut tank top that shows off some impressive cleavage, but somehow I don't let that distract me right now, but keep my focus on her eyes, trying to guess her next move, much like I would if I found myself facing a mountain lion in the parking lot between the car and myself.

"You know exactly what this is about, Edward Cullen. It's about you being a complete douche bag, fucking me, and then dumping me like I'm something smelly you found under your shoe. How could you treat me like that, and think you would get away with it? How dare you ignore me for a year, and then show up as if nothing happened?"

Now there are tears in her eyes, and in a minute I fear her face will crumple up and I'll be stuck with a crying girl in a parking lot, under the disapproving eyes of distant friends and strangers alike.

"I am truly sorry, Tanya. You're completely right, I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. It's just, everything happened so fast, and I don't normally do that, sleep with someone on the first date, and then I was leaving, and there was no real time to get to know one another…I tried to tell you over dinner the next day, but I obviously didn't do a great job of telling you how I felt.."my voice trails off, since I really don't know what to say.

We had a great time, I thought, while it was happening. Tanya took me home to her family's house, they were out of town, and we cooked our own barbecue in their backyard, blasting music on the radio and getting shitfaced drunk together on beer and tequila shots.

Then we made love – or maybe we fucked - on her parents' bed, and it was pretty spectacular as I remember it, and the morning after sex was good too, even though we were both pretty hung over.

The day after, I asked her out to dinner when we had both had some time to sleep and sober up, and it was…awkward. Well, I thought it was awkward. Tanya was still as stunning, and obviously very into me, but I just wasn't feeling it. When we weren't drunk and horny, we simply didn't seem to have very much in common, and I was feeling rather bored at the end of the evening, when I took her home like the perfect gentleman and went home, under the subterfuge that I had some stuff I really had to do before leaving on Saturday.

She texted me and e-mailed when I was back in Chicago, but I was short in my replies, and eventually I gave up replying altogether, and simply deleted her messages. I didn't have any intention of ever seeing her again, and it seemed pointless to keep up the pretense.

Seeing her like this, obviously I regretted the way I had left it. It would have been better to make a clean break, to have "the talk" and make the usual excuses. But here she was, and it seemed I would have to give her some closure now, instead.

Clearing my throat, I launch into the speech I need to make.

"Look Tanya, this sounds really stupid, but it was never you, it was me. You're right, I am a douche bag. I should have told you straight away that I don't believe in long distance relationships, and you could have just moved on and forgot about it."

"Shut up. It's not all about you, Edward. What about me, what about what I want? I wanted to give it a try, long distance or no long distance, but you simply blew me off. Was I just another fuck to you, Edward, is that what you're saying?"

She is still mad as hell, the tears glistening in her eyes make her even more beautiful, but not one bit more mellow.

"Of course not, Tanya! That's exactly what I'm trying to say, I don't do one night stands, that's why I was so bowled over by what happened between us. You're just so damned sexy that you broke down my defences, and I ended up having sex with you when I barely had had any time to get to know you first. It made me, I don't know, uncomfortable..I felt I had led you on or used you, and I don't like that."

I try for a tender gesture, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, but she shakes her head irritably and moves away from me.

I sigh, frustrated.

"To be completely honest, even if I did believe in long distance relationships, and I can tell you, I've seen enough of them fail in the past six years, I don't think I would start a relationship with you if I came to live here in Phoenix. We're just, incompatible, I think. It doesn't mean I can't be attracted to you, or that I can't like you, just, I don't think, you and me…" I stutter and fail, and now Tanya is looking at me with eyes that are almost black with anger.

"I get it, Edward," she says, and her voice is icy. "You think that I was a good fuck, and that's it. Wham, bam, thank you ma'm. You don't have to sugar coat it, or flaunt your principles at me. I understand that you are just as big a douche bag as the next guy, with your good looks, and your pretentions, and your snobby ass. Just, from now on, keep away from me – or I'll kick you in the balls so hard you won't ever sex another girl up in your life."

Before I can react she has smacked me right across the nose and stomped off, leaving me clutching my face with both hands, eyes tearing up, nose bleeding, humiliated and in a great deal more pain than I would have thought possible from a simple bitch-slap from an ex.

By the time Jasper and Alice find me by the car, my nose has stopped bleeding, but the humiliation lingers on. Bella comes trailing along behind Alice, takes one look at my face and I see her eyes go wide. She doesn't say anything, just slips into the back seat, while I mumble some sort of explanation to Jasper and Alice. The less said, the better.

We ride home in silence, listening to the radio, and Jasper lets off Alice and Bella on her street before he drives us home. The last I see of Bella is the white of her t-shirt disappearing in the darkness of Alice's driveway, as they haul their bags towards the kitchen door.

I feel deflated and depressed, and I can only be grateful that this is one girl who won't be texting me when I leave Phoenix the day after tomorrow, one girl I won't get the chance to defile and disappoint. Bella will go back to her life, and hopefully forget this night ever happened. All I can hope for is that I will forget it too. But I don't feel optimistic.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. The time I learn that I am a dick.

March 2008.

"Pump up the volume!" I sigh to myself, rummaging through the ice box for another beer. Alice can be really, really annoying when she has had too much to drink. The only way to block her out is by getting drunk yourself, so that's what I intend to do.

I straighten up and look out across the beach, watching the afterglow from the sunset behind me colour the sea a pearly pink and grey as approaching night rolls up black across the horizon. It's been a really hot day, but after a long, cold winter it is a good feeling to be too hot again, to feel sweat sting your brow and tickle your armpits, to feel the sweet smell of sun screen lotion and the rasp of sand between your toes.

Coming to Florida for spring break has turned out to be a great idea. I hear Alice shriek as the music becomes really loud, and I frown as I open the bottle and take a swig of the cool beer, relishing the bite on my tongue and the relief to my parched throat. Well, actually, it would probably have been better if it had been just Jazz and myself, but since Alice and Jasper are sort of a package deal I have accepted the idea that we do pretty much everything together these days.

I kick at the sand and wonder for the hundredth time if it would be easier if I had a girlfriend too, so we would be neatly paired off. That way I could go off with my girlfriend whenever they get handsy, instead of feeling uncomfortable and in the way.

It isn't that I haven't tried dating. I've been going out with girls on and off the whole year, but nothing seems to last beyond date number three or four. Just as we're about to get to the "I want to fuck your brains out"-stage of a relationship, something just feels…off. I hesitate and back off, making some kind of excuse, or just act unenthusiastic enough so that the girl walks away, hugging her self esteem to herself like a winter coat.

I sit down on a towel and pick at the label of the bottle, and glance over to where Alice, Jasper and a bunch of other kids are shaking ass to the music blaring from a music machine on a blanket. It's been a good day at the beach, and now we're going to stay on, build a fire and have a beach party. It will be fun. I sigh again, and lie down with my head resting on my arm, looking up at the darkening sky.

Maybe it's just stress. That's what I've been telling the girls when I back out: that I am just too damned busy right now, with tests coming up and my thesis hovering on the horizon. I am dedicated to my studies, it's true, and I have been burying myself in work, but it's not like it would be impossible for me to fit in a social life in the gaps between writing, teaching and going to the library. I just don't want to, I guess.

Sometimes I blame Tanya. Not Tanya per se, but the whole experience of dealing with the fallout of fucking with a girl's heart. I had no idea how hard she took it when I flipped her off, and I guess that kind of freaked me out. How am I to know what's going through a girl's head when I smile at her or ask her out or kiss her. Maybe she is interpreting my words and actions on some scale that I have no idea about? Maybe there are a whole string of resentful girls around, just waiting to take their revenge on me for fucking them, or for not fucking them, or for asking them out and then not asking them out again. I guess most guys get used to it and don't think about it, but in the last year the whole concept of relationships has been messing with my brain. I need it, but I am afraid of failing at it. And I don't like failing.

I close my eyes. Women. Who can understand them? Maybe I'll just wait for "the right one" to show up, like my mother keeps telling me wistfully. That way it will be out of my hands, and I won't have to do anything but let things happen, because we will both know. Yeah, right, like that happens in the real world.

I get up, pull on a shirt and gather my things together, moving towards the rest of the group. There are some guys I've gotten to know since we came down this weekend and I've enjoyed playing beach volleyball with some of them earlier today. Now we get started on building the bonfire, while more people are arriving, setting up blankets and reclining chairs, hauling out food and drink and music machines to rival Alice's crazy drum and bass tracks.

Once the sun disappears, it feels nice to have a bonfire, even if it isn't cold, the air turns cooler and there's damp air creeping up from the ocean that has some of the girls snuggling up to their boyfriends for a warming cuddle. I am on my third beer and feeling a nice buzz, since Jasper is the designated driver tonight. I walk around the periphery of the group, nodding at the faces I recognize, when suddenly I see Alice running towards me across the sand, dragging someone along by the hand.

"Edward! Hey, Edward! You'll never believe how cool this is! Bella is here for spring break too! Do you remember Bella?"

I flinch at the name, staring with disbelief at the pretty brunette standing there as if she just fell from the sky, flushed from running and a little out of breath, while Alice is still tugging excitedly on her hand. How could I forget Bella, her name comes up in conversation regularly since she and Alice are in touch every week on mail or Facebook. I have just learned to block it out. But here she is, in the flesh. I swallow.

"Hi! Yes, of course I remember Bella. Nice to see you again. How are you? Are you here with your family or friends?" I feel kind of stupid, blurting out the obvious, but really, my mind feels..blank.

Bella is looking at me, a shy smile on her beautiful face, and I notice that her dark hair is even longer, and she seems taller than I remember, dressed in dark blue jeans and a v-necked blue top that show off her delicate collar bones and the graceful curve of her throat.

"My grandmother lives here, and me and my mom came down to visit her this week. She's been feeling poorly, and doesn't like to travel anymore, so..we come to her. Phil couldn't make it – spring training, you know." She makes a cute face, scrunching up her nose. I smile broadly.

"So, I take it you're not that into baseball yourself?" I tease her. "What kind of sports do you prefer? Football? Soccer? Wait, let me guess, rock climbing?"

Alice rolls her eyes at me, gives Bella an encouraging hug and is off again, presumably to annoy someone else.

Now Bella is scowling at me, and unconsciously she crosses her arms in front of her, which draws my attention to the little bit of cleavage she is showing. Blue really looks good on her.

"I think I told you before that I am..un-coordinated, Edward. Sports is really not my thing. Actually, I keep trying to get coach to put me on the bench before I do some serious damage to others with a ball." She looks down and bites her bottom lip in the alluring gesture I remember.

"Most of the time, though, it's just me that ends up in the nurse's office. Seriously, I should get a card or something, that I could just swipe at the door. "Oh, it's Swan again!" she mimicks a bored voice, and I snort with surprise, laughing at her tone. She is so self-deprecating, and so funny; it's an adorable change from the preening girls I am used to from school, eager to show off their Upper Westside or Upper Eastside origins, or pretend they're worldly, intellectual or cool.

Now she is blushing, in spite of the lightness of her tone, and studying her toes, and I reach out to pat her arm.

"Hey, Swan, I'm sure you're one of the smartest girls in your year, though? Have you figured out what you want to major in yet?"

She looks up at me through a partial curtain of hair, and her expression is serious.

"You know, what I'd really like to do is major in English, because that's what I feel passionate about?"

It comes out as more of a question than a statement, and she hesitates before going on.

"Do you remember how you told me about what you do in school last summer?"

I nod, distracted at the memory of holding her against me as the 4th of July fireworks lit up the sky above us.

"Well, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I figure what I've always loved more than anything is reading books, and figuring out why I love the books that I love. That's the kind of thing I think I could be passionate about, you know?"

Then a frown clouds her brow, and she is drawing with her toe in the sand between us.

"But I get it that that's really..impractical. Like, the only thing I could hope to do out of that is teaching, and probably not at any advanced level, so I should probably go for a teacher's exam right away, and get used to the thought of reading Shakespeare with high school kids the rest of my life."

I frown too, and reach out a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, to get a clearer view of her face.

"Bella, if you feel passionate about literature, then that's what you should go for. It's true that there aren't a lot of positions for scholars in English literature around the world, but that's as if you would tell Yo Yo Ma that he shouldn't play an instrument because there really aren't that many positions open for Asian musicians around the world today."

I shift on my feet, moving closer, to drive my point home.

"What I am trying to say is, if you know in your heart that you really want to do something, you shouldn't let the laws of probability stop you. Just because 50 % of all marriages end in divorce, you don't go out telling people not to get married, right? Because you never know which one is you in the greater scheme of things. Maybe you are the English scholar of this century, who will write books on Shakespeare that people still study a hundred years from now?"

She smiles up at me now, and there is only like five inches of space between us.

"Really, Edward? You think I could be the English scholar of this century? Little Bella Swan from Phoenix, Arizona, USA?"

Her smile grows bigger, and her face is glowing so much I can feel my own face mirroring her goofy, larger-than-life smile.

"Yes, Swan," I say, grinning from ear to ear. "I have this big hunch that you are going to write the definitive work on the Bard. And with definitive, I mean Definitive. Like, no one will dare pipe up after you're done, baby."

She pushes my chest with her hand, almost making me lose my balance.

"Hey, Cullen! Did you just call me "baby"? No one calls me "baby"!"

I laugh, and catch her hand in mine, bending down to put my beer bottle in the sand, then capturing her other hand before she can snatch it loose.

"Yes, I call you baby, and I think you need some new experiences in your life if you're going to be an English major and study the hearts of men through world literature, so I'm going to keep piling them up. How about you dance with me now, _baby_?"

I wiggle my eyebrows at her suggestively and draw her towards the music, while she struggles half-heartedly, trying to pry her hands from my grip.

"Dance with me? Seriously? Are you on a suicide mission here? Didn't you hear anything I said about sticking me on the bench when it comes to anything athletic?"

I keep smiling, because her sincerity is really fucking adorable.

"I'll take my chances Swan, since there are no balls involved here. Just keep your hands on my body, and I will lead you through your paces, Dancing is all in the leading, anyway."

She mutters something that sounds like "Mind your own balls, Buster!" but I disregard this as we walk into the light of the fire where the music is more mellow now, and I pull her into my arms, putting her hands behind my neck, and my own hands firmly at her waist.

"I won't let you fall, Bella", I whisper into her ear, and I feel a small shudder go through her as she relaxes a little bit under my hands. We shuffle slowly, in time to the music, and I enjoy the possibility of burying my nose in her hair and breathing her in. There it is, the warm smell of sun, flowers and girl that I remember.

For a minute I wonder what she would smell like if I got the chance to explore her skin all over, but then I put that thought firmly away for another time. This is chaste, a dance with a vulnerable teenage girl, on her own at a party where most people are her seniors and I am one of the few people she knows. I'm gonna show her a good time, and make sure she gets home safely, that's all. Like an elder brother.

As we sway to the music, I feel her gradually relax more and more, and our bodies glide together. Now I can feel her chest against mine, then her stomach, and now her hips are touching mine as she is almost hugging me, one of her hands trailing up to bury itself in the hair at the nape of my neck. That feels incredible, and I stifle a moan.

When the music ends, I straighten up and move away from her to gather my composure.

"See, that wasn't so hard?" I smirk at her, to hide my emotion. "No injuries, right?"

She has a slightly dazed look in her eyes, and smiles a lazy smile that has my stomach doing flip flops in the strangest ways.

"I guess you're right, Cullen: it is all in the leading. So where do you want to lead me next? Some rock climbing, perhaps?"

I throw my head back, laughing, and the tension is relieved.

"No, no, let's stick to the things we know and not get ahead of ourselves. How about I find you something to drink and we sit down for a minute? Think you can do that?"

Still chuckling, I take her hand, and lead her to one of the ice boxes, where we both pick out a soda, before we go looking for somewhere to sit down. People are getting tired and most of the blankets are occupied by people making out, or sitting in a cluster, drinking and laughing. Finally, I spy a reclining chair that no one is using, and I point it out to Bella.

"Okay if we share? Do you want to sit on my lap, or would you rather that we reverse the traditional gender roles?"

She rolls her eyes at me and shrugs.

"As long as you're up for it, I don't mind sitting on your lap. You look about twice as big as me, and we wouldn't want any last minute casualties, right?" She giggles, and I think that is just about the best sound I have ever heard. I can't wait to make her giggle again.

I sit down, then hold out my arms to signal that I'm ready. She gingerly perches herself on my lap, but sits awkwardly, as if she is afraid of actually making contact. I gently pull on her shoulders to make her relax more against me.

"Hey, you were doing just fine when we were dancing a minute ago. Don't go all distant on me now. I promise not to grope you. If I do, you can slap me as hard as you want, allright?" I smile, to take the edge off my words.

She squirms, then says: "Are you sure this is comfortable for you? I'm not too heavy?"

I can't help laughing.

"Too heavy? Bella, please, you weigh almost nothing! If anything, I would be happy to see you putting on some weight! Are you sure you're not one of these anorexic teenage girls with a distorted body image?" I frown at her threateningly.

She slaps my arm, but relaxes visibly.

"I'm not anorexic, alright? And I did eat before I came here, a garden burger meal with fries, okay? Is that good enough for you, mr Health-and-Security?" Now she is all feisty again, the way I like her.

"Good. Because if you're going to beat your way through the jungle that is the English department at a major university, you will need your strength, and probably some martial arts skills too", I quip.

"So, Bella", I say, sneaking my arms around her and taking a sip from my soda: "tell me more about what you want to do with your life after you're through with the purgatory known as high school?"

She actually leans her head against my chest as she thinks about her answer.

"I don't know much about research, but I imagine that it's like when you walk into a different country, and go exploring. Like, if you see a copse of trees from a distance, when you walk closer, the shape of it changes, but then you walk around it and see it from the other side, and it's different again, and then you move closer, and you see details you didn't see before." She pauses, sucking on her bottom lip before she continues.

"So the more you watch, the more you learn, and the more questions you have: like, were these trees always here, or did someone plant them there? Are they the same kind as the rest of the trees in this part of the country, or are they different? Why do they grow here, and not a mile to the right? Is there water in the ground to make them grow?"

She sighs, and snuggles into me, and unconsciously I tighten my grip around her waist and let my other hand trail along the top of her thigh towards her knee. I clear my throat.

"That, Bella, that's actually one of the best descriptions of research I've ever heard", I say quietly. "That's just how I would describe what I want to do. I hope to know enough to be able to ask the right questions, to discover what's there beneath the ground, and to know more about how we should go about planting the trees of the future."

She turns her face slightly towards me, as if she wants to see whether I am sincere or not, and then her lips are _right there_, in front of mine. Before I know it, I have leaned in a fraction of an inch toward her, and our lips are touching each other. We both freeze.

Her lips are soft and warm, and without opening my mouth I can still feel the sweetness seeping into my mouth, the sweetness that is partly Coke, and partly something else, all Bella. I can feel the ghost of her warm breath fanning across my cheek as she opens her mouth and gasps softly, and that is all the invitation I need to start moving my lips gently against hers.

I kiss her softly with closed mouth, then slowly pull her full lower lip into my mouth and suck on it, and immediately she moves against me, dropping her can of Coke into the sand, and clutching her hands behind my neck, moaning into my mouth.

That's enough to release the catch on my desire, and I grip her hard with both hands, half turning her in my lap so that she is pressed into my front, gripping the back of her head in my hand, and running my fingers through her hair.

Her mouth opens and my tongue explores, finding her warm soft tongue ready there for me. And then there is only sweetness, and warmth, and the wet, sloppy sliding of our silky tongues against one another, and nipping of lips and grazing of teeth, hard and soft colliding. Once I can't take it anymore I let my mouth slide down, kissing her neck, then her shoulder in wet, openmouthed kisses, working my way up to nip at her jawline, and sucking at her earlobe, finding the sweet spot below her ear that elicits a soft, plaintive sound from her mouth that turns me on to the point where I'm crazy from wanting her so much it hurts.

Suddenly she bucks under my hands and swings around, so that she is straddling me, her warm center right there, pressing down on top of my already painfully hard cock, and she slides back and forth, kissing me frantically and humming into my mouth in a way that makes shivers of pleasure and goose bumps break out all over my body.

I find my hands sliding up and down her body, outlining the beautiful, long curve from her neck down her spine to her round behind, and tracing the outside of her breasts and her narrow waist, splaying my hands out to cover her hips, trying in vain to slow her down. Suddenly I realize that I am dry humping a teenage girl in public, and while my mind starts screaming to me to stop I find it hard to put a damper on other parts of my body.

I make an attempt to release my mouth from hers and stand up to shake her off, but at the exact moment when I grip her hips to try to stand up, she sort of rises up in the air only to sit down more firmly on my lap, so that our bodies crash together with renewed violence and she whimpers into my mouth, gripping my head so hard between her palms that I feel our teeth knocking together.

And then she is rubbing over me, fast and determined, and I feel myself spiraling down a waterfall of pleasure where all I can feel is the heat and the wetness of her mouth, and the fierce heat of her jeans between thighs that are clutching on to my hips for dear life.

All I can think about is how exquisite she feels and how much I want to be inside her, and then she squirms on top of me, hard, giving me the friction I so badly need, and I am tipped over the edge, growling against her chest, gripping her hips with one hand and clamping down on one perfect breast with the other, feeling a nipple standing up through the thin fabric, hard enough to cut glass.

And then she makes a keening noise against my shoulder, and stills her movements, biting down on the muscle, hard enough for it to be painful, but at the same time adding an unexpected edge to the pulsing pleasure between my legs. I am hers, only hers, and I want her teeth, her tongue, her hands and her skin all over me.

I lean back in the chair, completely spent, my thighs vibrating from the tension, and feel her slump against me, warm and soft, the sweet smell of her sweaty hair enveloping me. She murmurs my name again and again, and I hug her against me with arms that feel like lead.

As soon as I'm coherent again, I look around, almost expecting to see a crowd watching us, clapping their hands, making rude comments, but the part of the beach where we are is deserted, the light from the fire barely reaching us.

I gently pat Bella's back, rubbing small circles.

"Hey, baby girl, how are you? Are you feeling okay?"

She doesn't lift her head, but turns it so that she is glancing up at me, while still resting her cheek against my sweater.

"Okay, Edward? I feel amazing." And she closes her eyes, and hugs me tighter.

I carefully try to stir, making a face when I feel the sticky mess in my boxer shorts.

"Bella, I don't want to be rude, but I really need to get cleaned up after this. Will you give me a minute to find a bathroom?"

Immediately, she scrambles off my lap, and wobbles to her feet, watching me with what can only be described as deep embarrassment. I can tell that the blush is back in place.

"Sorry, I didn't realize.."her voice trails off and it's clear that she's probably never done this before and doesn't know what to do or say. We're equals there: I may be an adult compared to her, but I have never gone so quickly from conversation to exploding desire with anyone I know, and I'm not sure about etiquette rules at this point. Should we swop phone numbers? Should I walk her home?

I try to smile a reassuring smile and gesture vaguely towards the parking lot.

"Why don't you go find Jasper and Alice by the fire, and I'll be back in a bit?" I reach out toward her, and pull her to me, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead before turning her around and giving her a small, encouraging pat on the back in the direction of the bonfire. I watch her walking away for a minute to make sure she's alright, before turning around and climbing through the downs to find the restrooms up by the road.

It's not until I have done what I can with crappy toilet paper and cold water that I pause and look at myself in the mirror. I am not encouraged by what I see there. A pale face, tired, slightly blood-shot eyes, messy hair and stubble covering angular jaw and cheekbones. What the heck do I think I'm doing, dry humping a girl who is barely legal? Do I want Chris Hansen to come running after me? What would Alice say if she knew? And Jasper? Bella's mom, Renée? Does she know her baby girl is out tonight getting molested by grown men?

I groan and cover my face in my hands. This is so wrong, on so many levels. I can't do this. I've betrayed the trust Bella's shown in me. Okay, so she was a willing participant in what we did, or appeared to be, but really, she is so young she can't be held responsible for her body's reactions. Being a teenager and probably horny, of course she would follow my lead and think that I knew what I was doing. I'm the one who's supposed to be level-headed and experienced enough to rise above the imperatives of my fickle cock.

I draw a deep breath, and suddenly I feel that the responsible, adult thing to do here would be to – bolt. I can't face Bella: I have no excuses, no explanations to give that would hold up. It would be best if she just forgot about me, since chances are we won't be seeing each other again any time soon, and the only thing connecting us is that her home town is the home town of my current flat mate.

When I walk out into the parking lot, I see Peter packing up their van, getting ready to take off, and on an impulse I walk up to him.

"Hey, Peter, mind if I ride along with you? I'm ready to get out of here, and I can't find Jasper."

Peter grins at me, and puts his arm around Charlotte, his blond girlfriend who, I have learned today, is a great surfer.

"Sure, man. We're actually heading over to another party, but you can come along if you want? It's friends of Charlotte's who have a sort of rave party going on and plan to watch the sun come up. Are you game?"

I shrug and smile, thinking that this is the perfect getaway. "Sure, that sounds great, let's go."

I climb in the back of the van and pull out my phone, texting to Jasper: "Gotta go. Please pick up my stuff. Make sure Bella is OK? See you tomorrow." Then I quickly shut my phone down, before I can receive a barrel of messages back, asking what the hell I think I am doing. Because I really don't know how to answer that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 When I learn that I am a coward.**

Christmas and New Year's 2008.

I look out of the plane window as we touch down in Phoenix, bracing myself mentally for what's to come. Why am I doing this? As I stretch out my cramped limbs, gather my belongings and roll my bag down the corridors towards the exit sign I try to remember all the reasons why this is going to be fun and a good way to spend the holidays.

Christmas with my parents was okay: as usual I can't help the feeling that Emmett is their golden boy, in spite of the fact that it has never ever been suggested that it would be a good idea for him to go into the medical profession. So unfair. Although, looking at Emmett, it is pretty impossible to imagine him as a surgeon. He is way too big and too goofy, and would probably end up playing baseball with his patient's heart in the operating theatre. I smile to myself. No, Emmett is and will always be Big Bear, a football player first and foremost, and probably one day a great college coach.

I sigh. Seems as if I am doomed to disappoint people's expectations in me: no medical career, no girlfriend, an excellent academic record but in a fairly unspectacular field, and now I am even unable to support my brother's football career with the suitable enthusiasm. The whole family is going out to root for Emmett today, but of course I had to get on a plane to Phoenix. And I didn't even want to go here in the first place.

But this is another example of how I try hard to not disappoint people, and inevitably end up disappointing someone else. A long time ago, Jasper and I had decided that we would spend our last New Year together in New York on a trip to Las Vegas, to celebrate the end of our youth. That, of course, was before Jasper moved in with Alice, and before Alice was pissed off at me and refused to talk to me for months.

I am now sharing our old apartment with Ben, who is a graduate student like myself, and a really nice but very quiet guy that I have a hard time getting two words out of even on the days when I try. Jasper has spent all fall persuading Alice not to hate my guts, and she has finally relented and agreed to the Las Vegas idea, on condition that she and some other friends will go too.

So, here I am, spending a day or two in Phoenix on the insistence of Mr and Mrs Whitlock, before we fly up to Las Vegas together for New Year's Eve. I will try to keep a low profile and not annoy Alice. I also hope to God that I won't run into Bella, but since both she and Alice were royally pissed off at me nine months ago, I don't think that will be an issue. None of them are burning to see me again, although Alice will have to, since we're going to Las Vegas together. Yay. Did I mention that she hates me?

Jasper is waiting with his car to pick me up, and we do the man hug thing before he puts my bag in the trunk. I am relieved to see that he is alone. As soon as we pull out of the airport I run my fingers nervously through my hair and ask him:

"How is Alice? Are you sure that she is okay about this whole thing? Is there anything I can do?"

Japser raises his eyebrows and glances over the top of his Ray Bans. "Anything you can do to make this any less awkward, you mean? Nah, don't worry about it. You have groveled enough. Just prepare to grovel a little bit more and Alice will probably be prepared to let it go. Finally."

Jasper and I had already had the "Seriously, Edward, what were you thinking?" conversation after the whole Spring break debacle, when I explained to him that technically I hadn't been doing much thinking at the time when I made out with Bella, except if maybe my dick was doing the thinking. I also told him I was very sorry about the whole thing, but he told me that the excuses I could save for the girls.

_I had almost succeeded in putting the whole embarrassing episode away from my mind two months after Spring break, when one afternoon, Alice slams the front door open and pounces on me, where I am innocently eating leftovers in the kitchen in my sweats._

_"What the fuck do you think you're doing with Bella, you stupid fuck?" This is her only greeting, and I feel my stomach drop as I stare at her furious, pink face, eyes black with rage and shooting daggers. _

_"Hey, Alice, I don't know what you heard, but really, nothing serious happened.." is my lame response. Obviously the wrong one, because now she is physically assaulting me, slamming her tiny hands against my chest, almost pushing me out of my chair._

_"Not serious"! What do you mean, "not serious"? It took Bella months to even scrape together the guts to tell me about it, and it's obvious you've screwed with her head. She's sixteen years old, Edward, bloody sixteen years old! She's never had a boyfriend! How do you suppose she feels when you, a grown man, practically rape her and then drop her like she's poison and take off without a word? In what universe is that appropriate behavior?" _

_I back off towards the stove, but now I'm cornered, and I'm starting to sweat bullets. A kitchen is a potential death trap, full of heavy objects and sharp tools, and Alice seems out of control._

_"Look, Alice, I'm sorry, really sorry, about what happened that night, but I definitely did not "rape" Bella, we made out and we kissed, but we kept our clothes on, and then I left kind of abruptly because I felt bad about the fact that she's so much younger, and I was ashamed of myself.."_

_"As you fucking well should be, you asshole! Fucking with your clothes on still qualifies as fucking! So why did you just dump her without an apology? Did you know that she wandered around looking for you for hours before she realized you had left? If I had known what went down I would have hauled you back myself, but I never dreamed it was something this bad. I should go around Columbia campus with a sign with your face on it warning off the female students "Keep clear of asswipe Cullen! He will walk all over your self-esteem, once he's put his sweaty little paws on you." _

_I run my hands through my hair, feeling my throat constrict and my eyes burn. I sag down and sit on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor, bunching into a ball. Alice towers above me, she is going on and on, but I no longer hear her words. I am enfolded in this cold feeling of dread. I have done the wrong thing again, I have disappointed everyone again, and I remember Bella's warm, brown eyes and imagine them brimming with tears, staring at me with bitter accusation. _

_I shudder and drop my face into my hands. When I finally look up at the slamming of the front door, Alice is gone again. But the sick feeling in my stomach tells me that I will hear more of this in the days to come…_

And I did try to apologize, to Alice, and through Alice to Bella, but none of them was having any. I was the biggest dickhead that walked the earth, and if it wasn't for the fact that Bella had been keeping this to herself for months and didn't want Alice to say anything to anyone, Alice would have made sure that Bella's father back in Washington got out his service revolver and came after me for molesting his daughter.

I cringe inwardly at the thought of Bella's policeman father; if I had known about that beforehand none of this would probably ever have happened. I have a healthy respect for both fathers, policemen and guns. Technically though, Bella was sixteen and a half at the time, (I found out that her birthday was in September a long time ago. Creepy? Sue me!) and since we didn't engage in any sort of penetration (I looked it up. No, it's not creepy.) I wasn't breaking the law, but I was not going to point out that fact to Alice, since I did agree with her that I had broken a moral law by taking advantage of a young girl like that.

There's just no way of taking it back, however, so now I am stuck with Bella and Alice hating me forever. I sink deeper into my seat and watch dejectedly as Phoenix sweeps by under the glaring December sun, emotionally feeling as if it is a spotlight, pointing out all my inadequacies.

After I've dropped off my things in the guest room, kissed Mrs Whitlock on the cheek and given Mr Whitlock my best manly handshake and them both my symbolic "thanks for having me-Christmas gifts", we spend the afternoon at their country club and have dinner with Alice's family. Alice is stunning in a silver dress, cool and polite, but her eyes are like black obsidian whenever they meet mine, and I know that I am not forgiven. Nor did I expect to be.

Her parents are pleasant, Mr Brandon is a lawyer, dark brown hair turning grey, sleek and polished, and Mrs Brandon is ten years younger, slightly bohemian with long, curly hair, and teaches art at the university. They both love Alice, I can tell from the way they smile whenever they look at her, as if she is some beautiful, exotic bird they had found in their garden one day and which decided to stay against all odds.

I wish my parents looked that way whenever they looked at me. The thought makes me frown into my salad, and I pull myself together enough to make an effort to be even more polite and forthcoming and succeed in making almost everyone at table hoot with laughter at one of my awkwardness-anecdotes from visiting real-life construction sites. Alice smiles a tight little smile. She is obviously still a hard-hat area for me.

After dinner we split up, and I get in the backseat of Jasper's car, since we are going over to see friends of his and Alice's, friends who will be heading out to Vegas with us the day after tomorrow. I don't really listen to the conversation in the front seat, let the radio drown it out, while I find myself thinking about doe eyes and colt legs, wisps of brown hair trailing across my hands, the smell of flowers and summer sweat and girl, before I wrench my mind away and force myself to think about what I'm going to do after I finish grad school instead.

Jane and Alec seem okay – although they are the kind of couple that has been together so long they are almost finishing each other's sentences, which makes me feel more than ever like the third wheel. Jane isn't much bigger than Alice, but is a cool blonde with big, weirdly intense eyes that look as if they could bore right through you. Alec is blond and slender too, with a slow smile that looks kind of spooky on his handsome face, since it comes and goes quite unrelated to what anyone is saying. I quietly suspect him of being a closet stoner.

Alec mixes us drinks while Jane shows us around their house, her voice tinkling like a wind chime. They are a couple of years older than us, quietly successful urban professionals, Alec is working as a business executive at a technological company based in Phoenix while Jane is a graphics designer doing freelance work and amazingly enough making some money at it.

She must be really good, I muse, eyeing their living room which is all white, black and terracotta, very stark. Apparently she and Alice used to be in the same amateur theater company when they were teenagers, and they laugh at anecdotes and update each other on old friends.

My stomach plummets as I suddenly hear Jane's voice chime out the name "Bella". I tense and focus all my attention on the conversation behind my back, while I pretend to look at the art books in the bookcase.

"Yes, can you believe that little Bella is all grown up now, Alice, and she is a babysitter –would you believe it?" Jane laughs, and it grates on my ears like ice cubes splinting in a glass.

"After all the bad experiences you gave her, one would have thought she would have stayed away from babysitting herself, right? But I talked to Mrs Banner the other day, and apparently Bella has been babysitting for them for the past six months every Tuesday and Saturday, since Mrs Banner has her yoga class, and Mr Banner teaches evening classes now. I love their children, they are really cute, and reasonably well behaved, but I still can't wrap my head around the idea of little clumsy Bella Swan being a responsible babysitter."

I turn around, my mind churning, prepared to spit out something about how Bella Swan is an intelligent, accomplished, sensitive young woman, who I will not have maligned in my presence, when I see Alice's tense expression. She isn't having any of this, and she gives me a quick look as if to warn me: "Back off."

Alice straightens her shoulders and smiles sweetly at Jane, that deceptive kind of sweetness that I've noticed on some women's faces right before they lean in and twist your balls around, and I cringe inwardly.

"Well, Jane, I can see how your neighbors might feel slightly hesitant about calling on _you_ to babysit their precious babies after they found out about how you neglected to take care of the house when your parents went to the Bermudas two years ago. I heard not only did the plants all die, but the poor cat went crazy from lack of food and company and pretty much shredded all the living room furniture? So wise of you to not keep any pets here: it would be such a pity if something happened to this beautiful room, don't you agree?"

Jane is pink all over, and figuratively foaming at the mouth. Her voice is even higher pitched this time, and I fight the urge to stick my fingers in my ears.

"Why, I don't know where you've heard such a story, but I assure you it's not true, not in the least. The poor cat was sick and had to be put down, but that would have happened regardless of whether Mother and Father had gone away or not. I was very busy right then starting up my business, but I still took time to oversee the decorator's work and make sure everything was just as they wanted it. They both _loved_ all my suggestions!"

Alec swoops in with drinks and turns up the volume on the ambient music, already irritating where it's playing in the background, and Jasper uses his charm to turn the subject matter to something completely different. I head off Jane, who seems flustered but happy to walk away from Alice when I ask her some inane question about which modern artist she admires most.

Soon, however, I turn the subject around to what's most on my mind. Bella.

"So you both know Bella Swan?" I inject, sipping on my too-sweet Mojito. Disgusting. I mentally steel myself to stop my impulse of wrinkling my nose at her. "I met her last year. She seemed like a sweet, intelligent sort of girl. Do you see her often these days?"

Jane is still a little flushed, but manages a smile as she looks up at me through unnaturally long lashes. "Not really, no. I see her out with the kids sometimes and when she comes to babysit, but we don't..socialize. I saw her tonight, actually, when she was arriving just as the Banner's were heading out to a party. For a couple of teachers with young kids, they sure get around a lot." There is a slight sneer in her voice.

My breath catches in my throat. Bella is..here? Close by? In the neighbour's house? My mind swims as I try to manage a conversation with Jane on autopilot while I think about this fact at the same time. I set Jane off talking about herself: that usually works.

Bella. Here. Do I want to see her? More important, would she see me? What could I possibly say? But I owe her an apology. If Alice is right, if I've trampled on her self-esteem, if I made her feel unloved, unattractive or dirty through what I did, I must do everything in my power to erase that impression. I must. She deserves the world. She should have world famous architects and scholars groveling at her feet, not selfish grad-students dry-humping her on a beach.

When I get the chance I sneak off to the bathroom to dump my drink and sit on the toilet seat, running my hands through my hair until it stands on end like a bunch of decorative dried grass in one of Jane's stark terracotta bowls. What should I do? Finally, I stand up, my decision made. I'm going to make a fool of myself, but I'm going to do it for Bella. It will give her the chance to bitch-slap me or (shudder) kick me in the groin, but if that will make her feel better, then that's what I have to do.

I walk out of the bathroom like a man heading for his own execution. The others are draped around the black leather living room couches, Jane and Alice still icily polite towards one another, and Alec and Jasper laughing at some joke, refreshed drinks painting over the earlier awkwardness. It strikes me as I stand there that Alice is a fierce friend; she is making a lot of enemies while protecting Bella. Although I could never be an enemy of Alice's: however badly she's treated me these past months, in my heart of hearts I know that I'm on Bella's side too.

I put down my empty glass on the bar and clear my voice to get some attention.

"Thank you so much for having me, it's been a pleasure, and I look forward to spending New Year's Eve with you. Jane, Alec. I'm feeling a little queasy, so I'm going to get some fresh air, and then take a cab home. Please don't get up, I can see myself out. I'll see you later, Jasper. Alice. Good night."

Among some murmured regrets and vague gestures of protest, I back out of the living room, and quickly head down the hall, picking up my coat as I exit the door. When I come out into the fresh night air I see there's a moon out tonight, and I look around at the reasonably affluent neighborhood of three-to-four bedroom houses for upper middleclass families. Which one is my target?

I shuffle down the street, spying on the mailboxes. "Banner". Bingo! I look up at the house. The upper floor is dark, but there are lights in the windows looking out on the street. I look at the time: almost 10:30 PM. Late, but if Bella is babysitting and waiting for the Banner's to get home she is probably awake, watching TV or something. There are no cars in the driveway, so I assume they´re not home yet.

I hesitantly walk up the drive to the door, and hover for a bit before I man up and ring the doorbell. I wait for endless seconds, until I hear someone moving on the inside and see the spyglass move. She's there, and she isn't opening the door. Yet. Which is fine, I would be freaked out if she just opened the door to any random stranger.

Wait: can she see that it's me out here on the porch? And is that an incentive to open the door, or to call the police? I back off a bit so that the porch light is directly above my head, illuminating my face. I want her to know what she's getting herself into if she decides to open.

I wait patiently. If worst comes to worst, I'll just sit in the driveway all night until the Banners show up. She'll have to acknowledge me then.

Suddenly, the door cracks open. There she stands, in the soft light of the hallway, the house a cave of light and shadow opening up behind her, back-lighting her hair and giving it a reddish glow. She seems taller than I remember her, but I guess I tend to make her smaller in my memories. She is just as lovely as ever, dressed casually in jeans and a simple white shirt, her narrow feet bare, her eyes big and dark in her face, watching me impassively. I can't read her at all. Is she angry? Afraid? Curious?

I clear my throat. "Hi. It's me. Edward. I am sorry if I scared you. I was visiting next door with Jasper and Alice and the neighbors told me you were here. I couldn't leave without trying to see you. I need to talk to you, clear some things up. Apologize. Will you give me a couple of minutes?"

She just stands there for maybe a minute. I don't move, I'm afraid to. She lifts her hand, and pulls her fingers through her long, dark hair. Then she speaks, her voice soft and low.

"I can't let you into the house while I'm babysitting, Edward. The Banners don't know you, and they wouldn't want me to let any stranger in when their kids are here."

"We can talk here, if that's okay for you?" I offer, gesturing to the porch. "I can stay outside."

She hesitates for a moment, seems to think about it, then says. "I have to get one thing. Can you go around the house and meet me on the back porch? It's more…private." I nod, relieved, and back down to circle the house, while she closes the door again and disappears inside, then I am stepping carefully across the lawn in the dark.

There's a porch with a mosquito net and a swing with flower-patterned cushions and some chairs. I wait beneath the stairs until I see her silhouetted against the glass doors. When she steps out on the porch and gestures for me to come up, I comply, opening the screen door and joining her as she sits down at one end of the swing. I sit on the other end, a careful five feet away from her. There is a small radio on her lap. She gestures with it. "Electronic baby sitter" she says. "So I know that the kids are still sleeping."

I rest my head in my hands, dragging my fingers through my hair yet again, hesitating at how to begin.

"So, I needed to see you in person, Bella. Just to tell you how sorry I am, and how wrong I was to treat you the way I did. I want you to know that it was my fault, all of it. I completely lost control, and I treated you without the respect you deserve." I clear my voice, feeling my mouth dry and my fingers cold. I am on the verge of trembling from a strange kind of cold that has nothing to do with the night air.

"You are a beautiful, wonderful, smart girl, much too smart to waste your time on someone like me. I ran away that night, not because there was anything wrong with you, but because I realized there was something seriously wrong with me, and I just, I couldn't face you again. I was so ashamed, Bella. I still am."

Bella is quiet, moving automatically to keep the swing moving, the way people do without thinking. I feel sick to my stomach, but it's not the movement, it's her silence. I don't know how to interpret it.

"Exactly what part is making you ashamed, Edward? Kissing me? Making me feel good? Coming in your pants? Or spending the evening with a girl who's just in high school in Phoenix, dreaming embarrassing, impossible dreams? If I am so beautiful and smart, what has you running away from me, Edward, can you explain that part?" Her voice is low and trembling with emotion.

"I'm inexperienced, I know, but that is not something I think about. It's not important. If I wanted experience with anyone, I could get it, Edward, but I'm not interested. That doesn't make me immature or fragile. I wanted to have… that with you! But when you ran away from me, I thought, I…" her voice trails away, then comes back in a whisper.

"I thought you were ashamed of being with _me_…I thought you were..disgusted."

I hesitate and look at her, but her face is in mostly in shadow, and I can't tell if she's..

"Are you crying Bella?"

There's more silence, and then a quiet sob. Involuntarily, I move closer, stretching out a hand, then withdrawing it as if I might burn myself. Or her.

"Oh hell, Bella, please don't cry. I mean it when I say that I'm the disgusting, selfish guy and you're the one that should be running away from me, not the other way around. I'm intrigued by you, completely blown out of the water, but it's no good: I'm way too old for you, I shouldn't be thinking about you the way I am, much less touch you. I shouldn't even be here alone with you."

"If you don't want to be here, Edward, just leave." Her voice is faint, but hard.

Without thinking, I fall to my knees in front of her, clasping her hands in mine, letting the electronic baby sitter drop to the floor.

"Bella, I want to be here, believe me. But only to make things right, to make you understand that you _should _hate me, and just me. I'm ashamed for molesting you, and for running away like a coward, but not about anything else. I've had the best time of my life talking to you, and kissing you…" my voice trails off and falters.

"Bella," I whisper, "kissing you was amazing. I could never regret that." I look down at the floor, squeezing her hands in mine, willing this to be alright.

She is quiet, but then she releases her right hand, and it hovers above my head, while I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting her to hit me across the face. But instead, I feel her hand gently tangling in the mess that is my hair, and I hear her sniffle. The pull of her hand makes my head fall forward into her lap, and I allow myself to relax for a minute, feeling the softness of her thighs under the rough denim, and once more the scent that I will forever connect with Bella, flowery, sweet, warm.

"Edward"..and I shiver at her voice saying my name so softly, it's like the ghost of a caress across my skin.

"Edward, please come here." And I am helplessly drawn into her arms, leaving the floor, our limbs tangling slowly while the swing moves wildly, almost overturning us. Her hands are in my hair, my arms snaking around her, feeling her long, lithe body beneath me, beside me, hugging her close.

I am drunk on her, drunk on her scent, on the feeling of her warmth, the softness of her cheek, as I run my fingers along her face. "Bella," I stutter, "Bella, I'm, I don't know what to say, you're so.."

"Ssshh, Edward. Just kiss me please. Kiss me." And I do.

We kiss, and it's all sweetness, and softness and heat, and lips like petals, and then it gets heavier, sloppier, but just as good, and I want to kiss her everywhere, everywhere, and it goes on, and before I know it she is peeling her shirt off, and I know I should stop her, but I can't. She wants this, just as badly as I do, and I forget everything except her soft, scented, exquisite skin, like silk, and with a thin sheen of sweat which makes it even more delicious to kiss and to lick. She moans when I do, and her hands clutch greedily at my shirt, trying to rip it off me, running over my naked back.

My mouth is on her bra, and I can feel her nipple straining through the thin material as I breathe against it, then I wiggle it down, and I think we moan in unison as my tongue runs over the puckering skin, sucking on it softly. Suddenly I need to see her, and I sit up, and pull her onto my lap. The light from inside the house spills onto the porch and I see her above me, her hair wild and her eyes huge, her mouth open and panting and she is the most beautiful thing I ever saw, ethereal and yet more real than the rest of my life.

Her breasts are perfect, small and round when I put my hands on them, and she presses her chest forward, encouraging me, shuddering when I run my thumbs across her nipples. I never felt like this before, and something tells me that she is feeling it too for the very first time.

And then we are kissing again, and it's as if there is a small hole at the top of my head, and I am being sucked out of myself into some kind of heaven, where there is only pure sensation, and Bella is all I feel, hear, see and breathe.

Until there is the sound of a car door slamming, voices outside the house, and a key in the lock, and we both break free of one another, staring and frozen, as we realize that the Banners have just come home. Bella stands up, looks around for her shirt on the floor, picks it up along with the electronic babysitter, and manages to smooth her hair and thread her hands through her sleeves in one movement, while I frantically tuck my shirt inside my pants and pick up my coat from the top of the stairs. She goes into the house, and I scramble down from the porch and run blindly across the lawn, not thinking.

Across a fence, across another strange lawn, around a house steeped in darkness, and there I can see the road, panting, my heart racing wildly in my chest. I slow to a walk to not attract unnecessary attention, while I search for and find my phone, and call a cab, once I find a street sign to see where I am.

Once I'm safely inside the cab, I lean my head back and try to think. What happened tonight? I apologized to Bella, and I think that she forgave me? But then I did the whole thing wrong again, kissing her, my God, _licking her_ for Christ's sake, getting her half naked, and probably embarrassing the hell out of her in front of her employers.

Should I have stayed? Suddenly I'm cold all over. I did a runner again, didn't I, like a damned coward, leaving her alone to face the consequences of our little make-out session. I groan to myself and cover my face with my hands. The cabbie looks at me suspiciously.

"Hey, mister, if you puke in my cab, you pay for the cleaning, alright? Tell me if you want me to pull over and I'll do that, okay?"

I shake my head weakly at him. No, I won't puke, but I do feel sick at myself. Why do I keep doing this to the girl it would seem I care most about in the whole world? What kind of bitch is fate to keep throwing us together, only to have me hurt her and embarrass myself every time?

By the time I arrive at Jasper's house and pay the cab, I can tell by my reflection in the window that I am as white as a sheet. The only thing I want is to make sure that Bella is alright, but I don't have the address, I don't even have her fucking phone number and it's in the middle of the night. I let myself in with the guest key, and stumble to my bed, emotionally and physically exhausted. I tell myself I'll look her up first thing in the morning, as soon as I get a hold of Jasper and Alice.

I wake up to the sound of someone knocking at my door. I sit up in bed, sleepy and confused, and call out "Who is it?" No one answers, but the door opens, and Alice quietly glides into the room and sits down at the foot of the bed. I'm decent, in a t-shirt and boxers, but definitely not at my best. She's wearing a yellow sundress with a white cardigan slung across her shoulders, and looks dapper and lovely as always. I'm feeling disoriented – why is she here? Where is Jasper?

Alice is looking at me, not with hate, but with sadness, and the corners of her mouth are turned down. "I saw Bella early this morning, and she told me about what happened last night."

I swallow, suddenly not so worried about morning breath and my sleep-wrinkled face anymore.

"You saw her Alice! Did she get home alright? I was so worried, and I didn't know how to find her in the middle of the night.."

"Oh, I think you _found _her, Edward. The problem was, you didn't stay with her once you found her, did you?" Alice gives me a tired smile, and then holds out an envelope.

"Bella wanted me to give you this. She is not in the mood to see you right now. If ever." Alice stands up and walks to the door, while I find myself staring at the white piece of paper in my hands. "See you later, Edward." And she's gone.

With trembling hands, I open the envelope and tear out the sheet inside. It's brief.

"Edward. When you came around last night, I was shocked, and didn't know what to think at first. Then, for a while, you made me believe that you really cared about me. But when you ran off again, I realized that you spoke the truth when you said we can never really be together. Maybe you care about me, but it's obvious you are not comfortable being seen with me. Your gut instinct with me seems to tell you to run. Well, my gut instinct is telling me to stay away from you now, before you hurt me again. Please don't try to contact me anymore. There is nothing left to say. It's clear we shouldn't be together. Goodbye. Bella."

I crumple the paper in my hand, and I sit in Jasper's guest room with the morning sun pouring into the room and New Year's Eve ahead of me, and I cry for the first time I can remember in years, cry until my chest hurts and my face is all wet and covered in snot.

When I finish crying, I clean myself up, pack my things, and go looking for Jasper, to tell him I'm not coming to Vegas after all. I'm going back to New York, to finish working on my thesis. Maybe it's the only thing I'm really good for.

As the plane is lifting and I see Phoenix beneath me again under the setting sun, I think that this is probably the last time I come here, and somewhere down below, a seventeen-year-old, brown-haired girl with the sweetest mouth, and the brightest future is trying her best to forget she ever met me. But I know now for a fact it will be years before I will ever be able to forget the burning memories I have of her. And I feel my heart crumple in my chest at the bleakness of this thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

**The time when I worked on my warts.**

February 2009.

My nutbrown maid,

I have decided that I will write to you, the old-fashioned kind of letter, nursing the small hope that you will find this idea exotic and intriguing enough that you won't burn them on arrival without reading them. If you're still hurting enough that my handwriting on paper makes you physically ill, I hope that you will please store these letters at the back of a drawer for a later time. Please don't throw them away. I intend to show you my heart, for what it's worth.

I will be 27 years old this year, and hopefully complete my education with a decent dissertation and manage to get a job. But beyond this, what have I really accomplished with my life? I look at you, and all the radiant promise I see in you, and I feel grey and old and ugly. Please believe me, I am not fishing for compliments here, I know that although I am older than you, I am technically hardly _old,_ but sometimes I feel that way.

I went to high school in Chicago, and I fell in love with Frank Lloyd Wright when I was your age, and I was filled with dreams and ideas about what I wanted to do in the future: being famous was an integral part of these dreams. I was going to be the rock star of architecture, the bad boy of the future, like an astronaut, an artist and the leader of a corporation all rolled into one.

My parents probably saw how shallow this was, and since I had been a precocious child, bored and skipping ahead a year in middle school, doing well in all I did in high school, they tried to pressure me into choosing pre-med to become a surgeon like my mother. The way they saw it, someone with my talents had a duty to society to choose the hardest path, both to challenge myself and to serve others.

I was stubborn and I rebelled against their wishes. This caused a falling out between us that has never really been healed. To be fair to my parents, I now see that it probably wasn't just my choice of career path that troubled them, it was my whole attitude to life. I wanted what I wanted and I was going to get it because I was Edward Cullen. Yes, it sounds terrible, I see that now. But that was how I looked at life.

I always did well in school without trying, I could read when I was four, I thought algebra was a piece of cake, languages came easy, nothing was ever hard for me. I should have been a social pariah, but I was a pretty boy with social skills, people loved me in spite of my intelligence. When I turned fifteen I sprouted and filled out, became tall and lean, and older girls took an interest in me. Although I was never beefy like my younger brother I succeeded at the sports I tried my hand at – I was a successful track runner all through high school and college, I could fly like the wind (ironic, I know)– and girls kept coming to me like birds to a feeding trough in winter. I was a golden boy.

You would have thought that my parents should have been thrilled, but they were worried. I saw them as forbidding and disdainful. They wanted me to try harder, to do better, but I thought they were unreasonable: I was already bringing in top grades and track prizes and being crowned King at Homecoming although I was younger than my peers – what more did they want?

I didn't see what they saw: that I was taking my grades for granted, despising those that struggled for the same things I won easily, that I completely lacked for team spirit or the grace that allows a person to lose, yet not feel bitter because he knows he has tried his hardest, and that the girls I brought home were beautiful, but nothing more. I lost my virginity at fifteen, with a senior girl, and discovered casual sex, and that's the only thing I knew until college.

I'd like to think that I never hurt anyone, that all the girls I dated was in it for the same thing as myself: to be seen with someone good-looking and popular, and to enjoy a good make-out session, or good sex with no strings attached, but looking back now, I'm doubtful. Maybe I just didn't notice, or didn't want to see what their real feelings were? Maybe I just saw myself reflected back in their eyes?

By now, I'm probably disgusting or boring you, and what I would really like is for you to tell me more about yourself. I know so little about you, and I want to know everything. But I understand that I have no right to ask you, and that you have no reason to trust me. So here I am, rambling on about my life as it was before I met you, trying to explain how I slowly became this grey, ghostly creature that kills everything he touches. The golden boy became King Midas.

Maybe I am cursed? Maybe, if this was a fairy tale, I would be the sleeping prince locked in the highest tower, covered with cobwebs, and you would be the fairy princess, bold and nut-brown, climbing the tower with her bow slung over her shoulder, to release him with a kiss? Only, why on earth would that lovely creature go into that dusty, foul tower instead of staying outside in the sunshine?

That's how I see you in my mind's eye, my nut-brown maid, slender and strong and beautiful, with the sunlight in your hair. I have resolved, as a sort of magic charm, that I won't call you by your name until you tell me that I can. I will call you by all the pretty names from the treasures of English literature, because that seems fitting,

I however, will try my hardest to reveal myself to you as I am, warts and all, and give you power over me, so that you can never say you were tricked into giving me your permission.

I remain, thinking of you,

Prince Toad (formerly known as Edward)

xXoXo

March 2009

Janet of the green kirtle,

Please forgive me for writing to you again, and probably too soon, but I can't help myself. It's spring here in New York, but it's a fickle kind of thing, green one day and grey the next. I walk across campus and think about the fact that these are probably my last months here. I have half a promise of a position at a Chicago firm waiting for me, another at a small firm where I've been an intern in New York, and my professor is mumbling about keeping me on for some externally funded project here at Columbia, but nothing is for certain and I don't know where I'll be in six months. I don't really care, to be honest. I can't stop thinking about you.

Where will you be, come fall? You must have applied to colleges by now, and probably decided what your priorities are. I am sure you must be eligible for some fine scholarships: somehow I see you as this outstanding student that every college must be clamoring to get their hands on. Am I right? I hate to think that you would have to limit your choices because of financial restrictions, but I know all too well that life is unfair and that the best people don't always get the best opportunities. Would you tell me about it?

I was a genuine prick all through high school and most of college, I can see that now. Come to think of it, I am probably still a prick since I didn't realize it back then! Scary to think of: the fact that you can never see yourself truly, the way others see you, except maybe in retrospect? I fancy that this is what praying does for religious people: giving them a chance to step outside themselves for a moment, to attempt to take on the perspective of the Divine and see themselves and things for what they truly are. But maybe that's just something that saints on mountains manage to do, what do I know?

So let me enumerate some of my warts to you. Please, don't think that I am deliberately trying to put you off here, this is not some elaborate "it's not you, it's me"-scam to make you back off even more and write me off forever. On the contrary, and against all hope, I am entertaining the delusional idea that once I've shown you the truth about myself, you will find it in your heart to one day forgive me. You know the old saying, "he who sees all, forgives all"? No? Maybe I just made that up myself then…

I was crowing like a cock (not that kind, no) when I got the opportunity to go for a major in architecture at Columbia in NYC. Since it's prestigious as hell, my parents couldn't very well _not_ be pleased about that, so they reluctantly supported me through college. I had expensive habits, so I got part-time work even though I didn't need it to pay tuition, and did some serious partying in my free time. Even so, I got through grad school in two years, cramming my course load, a straight A student. They'd seen nothing like me before.

Columbia is where I met Jasper, as I was leaving grad school and he was starting out. I was his mentor, kind of, but sometimes I think it was the other way around. We ended up sharing a small apartment, because it was cheaper and I was feeling lonely by then. You know Jasper. He's an easygoing, forgiving kind of guy, who everyone loves to be around. Funny enough, sometimes I think that beside my brother Emmett, Jasper is probably my only friend. Isn't that strange?

I mean, I have always had drinking buddies, study partners, colleagues, team mates, room-mates, but none of them I ever got close to. And the girlfriends, well, apart from Angela, they were short-term and never really got under my skin. You already know Jasper, so I guess I should tell you about Emmett. Don't worry, we will get to Angela. If you want to learn about Prince Toad, you will have to learn about the princess, right? Although Angela was always a true princess, not toady at all. If anything, she was like Daphne, the slender laurel tree. I just squatted at her base for a while.

But Emmett, I hope you get to meet him some day, because he is a genuinely good guy. I have always been jealous of him, of his easy relationship with our parents, his many friends, his goofy sense of humor and how he always seems to be able to face life with a smile.

He very rarely brought home any girls, and for a while I harbored the very ungenerous suspicion that he might be gay, and gloated at the shock that this would mean to our parents and his football team mates. Of course, knowing Emmett, he would only have become the cuddly teddy bear/gay icon of football, and before you knew it, Mom and Dad would be endorsing gay adoptions, so this plan to discredit him would probably have backfired.

Do I sound petty? I guess I am petty – this is one of the warts I mentioned. My inability to cherish my wonderful brother without any reservations. Because Emmett never had an easy time of it in school like I did: he had dyslexia, and had to fight every inch of the way for his grades. He was also diagnosed with ADHD and even though everything was easier once he got medication and family and school co-operated to make his life better, he had to work for everything he got. And all through this, he managed to keep a smile on his face, and on the faces of the people around him.

I guess he made me feel small, in more ways than one: he has always been a big guy physically, and football made him huge. But it's his heart that's biggest, and I guess that's what I couldn't take – how lovable he is, and how much he deserves all the love he gets. I never deserved it like he did, and maybe I could feel it in my bones, that I wasn't getting any because it was my fault.

Not that my parents are cold or anything: Mom hugs me when we meet, and they call me up regularly to check in on me, and my father takes me out to lunch whenever he's in New York on business. It's just… (silence)

I had to break off for a while there, to think. Why do I feel as if something cold is squeezing my insides when I think about going home on Thanksgiving break? Why does my stomach plummet when I meet my parents' gaze on Christmas Eve? Why do I feel like I'm such a disappointment to them? How can I be? What did I do wrong? Is it my warts? But shouldn't parents accept their children, warts and all? And why do I feel as if they never accepted me, but embraced everything Emmett was, however hard he made them work to help him? Was it because I didn't think I needed their help? Or didn't they think I needed them?

I guess this is an old wound that still hurts, and I am still helpless and unsure how to deal with it. Maybe I should see a therapist and "talk it out"? But I am doing it now, with you. You're my own personal brand of therapy! If I find out how you do it, I should bottle it and sell it, like an expensive scent. Sorry, that was an inappropriate joke I think. I mean it, seriously. Talking to you, even when you are not here and not talking back, is helpful.

Do you know Janet of the green kirtle? She was the maid who met Tam Lin on the road, and with her courage managed to release him from his bondage to the Evil Fairy Queen. How? She just held him, while he was turned into one monstrous shape after the other, and then she threw him in a well so that the water turned him into a naked, shivering and wet, defenseless, human man again, and she took pity on him and covered him with her green cloak. I'm hoping that this can happen to me as well. Strip me, cleanse me, and cover me, please.

I remain your

Prince Toad/Edward.

xXoXo

April 2009

My dark lady,

Finally, I get to feel the sun again, and to walk beneath green trees in Central Park. Have you ever been to New York? I would love to meet you here and give you the tour. We would walk a lot, so you would have to wear sensible shoes, (Chucks don't really support your foot valves you know, even though they _look_ cool – Mom told me, and later I found out she was right) but we would ride a boat too, to take a look at Manhattan from the water and see the buildings. I could tell you about architectural history and you could be polite and bored, no, you could never be bored, because you have the keenest mind I know and you find all things interesting!

It is a gift that, to remain curious about life and to enjoy learning new things without fear and prejudice. I see you as a fearless young woman, but perhaps that's just my particular prejudice talking? Maybe I have scared you off well and good and forever, and you will keep away from New Yorkers, Chicago architects and track runners for the future? Sorry, I shouldn't presume to know your beautiful mind. I will wait until you give me a piece of it.

Do you know, some of the most beautiful love songs I know aren't properly love songs? I had never listened to Sufjan Stevens until Angela played me his albums, and now I almost can't listen to "Chicago" or "Casimir Pulaski Day", because they wring my heart so hard it hurts. They aren't the usual "I love you"-songs, but they tell me of a love that is deep and hopeless and hopeful at the same time, a love that burns a hole in your soul that nothing else can fill, and yet you can't let go.

It would be conceited of me to believe that Angela loved me that way, but I know now that she was a woman who had that capacity to love, and that it was wasted on me. I didn't know what I had in her when I had it. And then I didn't have it anymore, and I didn't care the way I should have. It's only now I see what I had and let go so carelessly. "_I made a lot of mistakes, in my mind, in my mind_". Too true.

Please don't get me wrong, I am not pining over an old girlfriend. If anything, I am relieved to know that she is doing fine without me now. I am just saying that she was way too good for me, and yet she believed in a future with me, at least for a while. That makes me hopeful that maybe one day you would be able to feel that way too, because I believe that you have that same capacity for love and goodness that she has, which I hope to deserve.

Okay, so it's Angela's turn now. We met at Columbia in our senior year of college. She was a sociology major and her plan was to help people. She was a brilliant student too, and she had done a lot of extracurricular work both in New York and outside of the country during the holidays as an international volunteer.

I admired her and was drawn to her because she was warm, quiet, shy, different from any of the girls I'd gone out with before. She was pretty too, with brown hair and hazel eyes, although she didn't think so herself: she used to joke about how she was librarian material, with her black-rimmed glasses and bad posture.

I had to woo Angela to get her to take me seriously, and maybe that was a part of what intrigued me about her, that she refused to believe that I wanted to date her. I remember her disbelieving gaze the first time I asked her out on a regular date instead of just meeting for coffee or in the library. She almost looked over her shoulder to see if I was talking to someone else. I laughed at that, and I can still smile at the memory, but it's a smile tinged with sadness. She just couldn't see herself clearly. She reminds me of you. "_I can see a lot of life in you. I can see a lot of bright in you._"

I had to move slowly with Angela, to win her trust, and I liked that. I felt that she was serious, that we were serious, that she was the sort of girl I could take home to my parents and they would look at me and take me seriously because she did. Sounds weird, doesn't it?

We were together for six months. We might still have been together, probably even married by now, if it weren't for my warts. See, I never cheated on Angela, but I never really changed for her either. She didn't like to party, so I went to parties without her. She didn't like it when I drank or got high, but I did it anyway, and didn't try to hide it from her either. She didn't like it when I pushed her sexually, it made her feel inadequate, but I still did all of this because I wanted to change her. I wanted her to be herself and at the same time I wanted her to be like me, even though deep down I probably didn't like myself. Yes, it was sick, I agree.

So, I guess, in a way, I pushed Angela away from me, because I didn't believe that I deserved someone like her. Does that make sense? She broke up with me. It wasn't easy for her, because in spite of everything I think she honestly loved me, or the good parts of me that she could see in there. In the end she just couldn't take it when she felt that I pretty much ridiculed everything she cared deeply about: helping the poor, her faith in God, her belief in a good society, her support for a democratic president, her friendships with people who were good people but sort of lame from a superficial point of view.

Her parents were bewildered by me, her mother wary and her father resentful. They were old-school democrats, liberals, churchgoing Lutherans, educated but not well-off, and they didn't like that I was "corrupting" their daughter, with my money, my superficiality and my loose morals. As if I could ever have corrupted Angela! But I did hurt her, and I regret this. I was like a disease, like cancer. "_And he takes, and he takes, and he takes"_. And then she just couldn't take it anymore, as generous and forgiving as she was, and she ended it, before I ended her.

I called her Daphne. She was a living thing, a beautiful thing, and she turned herself into a laurel tree and put down her roots firmly so that I couldn't abduct her and bring her away from herself. I respect her for that.

Now I think that maybe Angela made a lasting impression in that she prepared me for seeing you, really _seeing _you. By the time you and I met I was getting tired of hooking up with women as superficial as myself, and the interesting ones were either taken or quickly caught on to the fact that I was probably a waste of their time. I had come to the point that I didn't want to be a waste of a good woman's time anymore, but I didn't know it yet. You made me start seeing my warts, and I think that is a good thing, even if it's also a painful thing.

I don't want you to think that I am more than I am. I want you to see me as I am. But I also want you to know that I would never treat you the way I treated Angela. I wouldn't push you or expect you to accept any crap from me. I wouldn't want to change you, unless you wanted my help to change. And I would love for you to help me change, into a better person, a better man. If you would be my friend, that would mean the world to me, in spite of all the sloppy kissing I've already put you through.

Do you think we could do that? Just friends? Because being friends is a big deal to me, not "just" friends – hey, I've practically told you I don't have any friends! How pathetic is that?

It's like I am a toad waiting to become something else, I just don't know what? A prince? I can only hope, but it seems unlikely. Maybe I would be okay turning into something faithful, like a Labrador dog, or something intelligent and benevolent like a dolphin? Or maybe a swineherd would be okay too, as long as it was okay with you? (I promise to take a shower.)

Are you a fan of the Bard? Who am I kidding, if you are majoring in English lit you must be! So he had a Dark lady, a secret muse he wrote sonnets to. Will you be my muse? And one day, maybe my sad letters will turn up in a dissertation as the mysterious "Toady letters"? Let me quote from the Bard, then, to make sure to make this immortal:

_Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass/ And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye,_

_When love, converted from the thing it was,/Shall reasons find of settled gravity;_

_Against that time do I ensconce me here/Within the knowledge of mine own desert,_

_And this my hand against myself uprear,/To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:_

_To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws,/ Since why to love I can allege no cause._

Believe me, if I were ever to have the option again, I would never leave you, Dark lady. And so I will remain at your side, your faithful

Prince Toad/Edward the Labrador dog

xxOxX

May 2009.

Dear Edward,

You may call me Bella. My name is Isabella Marie Swan. So according to old folktales, once I have given you my name I have given you power over me. Who am I kidding, you have always had power over me: I just didn't know what to do about it, so I twisted, like a fish on one of Charlie's hooks.

Charlie is my Dad, but I call him Charlie. He is the Chief of Police in a small town called Forks in the Northwest. I am a lot like him. I don't carry a gun, but he always sends me a new can of pepper spray for Christmas. Consider yourself warned. I mostly grew up with my mother, Renee, and you've already met her, so I don't need to warn you there. Phil, my stepfather, is a nice guy, but he does know how to swing a baseball bat, so I guess I should warn you about that part. I don't know if he specializes in knee-caps or skulls?

I am no Dark lady, no nut-brown maid or Janet with the green kirtle, but I would like to be. What girl wouldn't want to inspire a Bard, or rescue a prince trapped under a curse? But unlike you I am not convinced that anyone can change us except ourselves. So while I am prepared to stand aside to be your audience and clap, I will leave the changing to you. I could write the ballad to commemorate your change to posterity, if you like? That seems a proper task for an English major.

I never saw your warts, except maybe when you ran from me. So perhaps you have a toady backside, like those woodland creatures that look like a beautiful woman from the front and a hollow dead tree log from the back? We will have to work on your running tendencies, to be sure. Without being kinky, would you consider being foot-cuffed when in my presence, just to put me at ease?

Surprise, surprise – I have received a scholarship to New York University and will be starting studying Creative Writing there this fall! Did you catch on to the fact that I was hugging myself with glee as I wrote that sentence? Not? Then I guess I must still work on my creative writing skills some..

I will have to work my ass off too, to make ends meet, but I don't mind that. Like your parents, I believe that challenges are good for building character. And I mean to acquire a lot of character.

I am not as beautiful, intelligent or wonderful as you seem to think, and that scares me a little bit, because I' m thinking you are just projecting some kind of super-Angela vision onto feeble, normal me, which can only lead to awful disappointment on both sides when we finally meet, or to you killing me, to keep my mummified corpse in the attic as your eternal moral compass. (Yes, I officially think you could be weird enough. That's what your Toady letters have done to me.)

In spite of everything, I wouldn't mind meeting you, and making an attempt at becoming friends. No sloppy kissing involved, to be sure, which I guess means we would have to meet in broad daylight in a café where we may sit in a booth with the table between us, sitting on our hands (and you with your feet cuffed!) while an objective third party (Alice?) keeps an eagle eye on us from three tables away.

I'm not kidding, Edward. In spite of your twitching feet and your warts, I find you almost irresistible. I don't know if it's a good thing or not, but it's a fact. And I respect facts.

I love your green eyes, and your laugh wrinkles, and your red lips, and your scruffy jawline, and your tousled hair. I love your long, gentle hands and your shoulders, and the sprinkling of chest hair that pops up uninvited when you wear a button-down shirt. I love your deep voice, and your honesty, and your poetic words to me and I love that you haven't given up, in spite of the fact that you are such a terrible, terrible coward.

Maybe if I am Dorothy, you could be my Cowardly Lion? Would you like that? I am hereby promoting you from Prince Toad to Cowardly Lion. Maybe one day, you'll make swineherd? By then, I hope to be editor of Time magazine.

Provisionally yours

Isabella (Bella!) Marie Swan

Future editor.

xxXox

May 2009.

Dearest Bella,

I will agree to any and all terms you want. Cuff me hand and foot in Times Square and I will accept it meekly, as long as you promise to stay there to talk to me and ward off the rapists and muggers with your little can of pepper spray.

I don't know what to say. You have made me happier than I thought possible, and I am walking around with a maniacal grin on my face all day long, that makes people leave a wide berth when they pass me in the street.

Maybe I am crazy, like you say. Crazy to think you could ever love me, but hoping against hope. Crazy in love with you. I love you. I know I shouldn't say these things like this, in a letter. The three words should be saved for a special occasion in a diner under Alice's careful scrutiny when I meet you eye to eye. (Can you tell that I am hugging myself gleefully at the mere thought of this joyful possibility?)

But you must know it already. Otherwise, where would I have found my cowardly courage to pursue you like this? Only because I love you, and I can't imagine going on with my life knowing you are living somewhere under the sun, and I haven't done everything in my power to convince you of my love for you.

Bella, believe me, you are all those things you so emphatically deny. I won't push, but I know you're wrong when you think I am not seeing you clearly. It's _you _who fail to see yourself clearly. I look forward to arguing about this endlessly with you, for as many years as you care to sit in that diner, until Alice is bored out of her mind, my hair turns grey and they don't serve coffee anymore because it's been outlawed for health reasons.

And if, by the end of that time, I have graduated to swineherd, and am allowed to tell you how much I desire you, and how much I long to touch your beautiful hair, and your soft fragrant skin, and kiss your cool silken lips (chastely, across the table, of course) then I will be completely, blissfully happy and can die from caffeine withdrawal without complaint.

Bella, my pretty girl, no, my incredibly beautiful soul, please tell me that you will select a diner of your choice and let me know as soon as you arrive in NYC so I can meet you there? Until then I will practice my roaring and try to deserve the title of your

Cowardly Lion

Edward.

P.S. Did I tell you how much I love you? *growling*

**THE END**

A/N: Song quotations are from Sufjan Stevens' album Illinoise, the songs are Chicago and Casimir Pulaski day, and his album Seven Swans, the song is The Dress Looks Nice on You. The poem is from William Shakespeare's Sonnets, no 49.

So I decided to keep this short and sweet, to be sure I would finish it. I started out thinking this would end in Vegas, but it didn't. Maybe in the future I'll give you some insights into Bella's point of view (what that girl must have suffered..) and future outtakes into their possible HEA. Meanwhile I am trying to discipline myself into finishing a longer piece. Thank you for reading Toadward's story! Please let me know what you think if you have the time: it will be appreciated, since I am such a rookie at this..


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